#the second wave barely just ended and oof

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Woo-oof, Mullet. How has training every second of every day made you worse, somehow?”

Keith clinches his jaw, forcing himself to keep his attention on the gladiator in front of him, and ignore the taunting to his left.

He doesn’t understand what Lance’s problem is. A couple months ago, he was putting a soft hand on Keith’s shoulder and saying he trusts the Black Lion’s judgement, sticking with Keith even when he makes dumbass decisions, and now he’s back to that stupid — rivalry? Again?

What’s his fucking angle?

“I’m still doing better than you,” Keith grits out, because the high road is for losers. Unfortunately the jab doesn’t have the intended effect, and Lance only smirks.

“Not for long.”

Faster than Keith can fully process, Lance fucking back handsprings out of his gladiator’s range, widely avoiding its attack, and then he flips forward, using the momentum to hit the gladiator full force in the chest. As the gladiator stumbles, Lance wraps his legs around its shoulders and almost throws his own body to the ground, sending the gladiator’s head to the floor at frightening speeds. It cracks on impact, Lance scrambling a couple feet away, and then a low hum fills the room as a robotic voice announces: “Level 24 complete, Red Paladin. Congratulations. You are in the lead.”

Lance turns and smirks in Keith’s direction. He doesn’t even say anything, but the smugness drips off him in waves.

There’s absolutely nothing Keith can do to stop himself from what he does next. His fuse is short, he knows that, and Lance has fucking burnt it to a crisp. He feels something implode in his stomach, and he sees red.

He lunges for the gladiator, using his training staff to vault off the mat and throw himself right at the gladiator’s chest, just like Lance did. He twists his body, trying to wrap his legs around his shoulders and bend his back to get the right momentum.

There’s no noise, no crack or snap, but Keith feels something give in his lower back, and he drops to the ground , trying and failing to bite back a pained shout. The gladiator, obviously undeterred, raises its staff above Keith’s head, whipping it down so quickly it whistles. Keith throws himself out of the way, which hurts so badly his vision actually whites out a little.

“End training sequence! End it! Stop!” shouts a panicked voice. The robot voice confirms the instruction, and Keith hears the whooshing sound of the gladiator dematerialising, then footsteps hurrying towards him.

“Holy shit, Keith, are you okay?” Lance leans over him, brown eyes wide in concern, hand resting gently on his arm.

Keith scowls. He pulls his arm away and pulls himself up and out of Lance’s reach.

Well, he tries to. The second he tries to sit up the same agonizing pain from before radiates from his back, and barely manages to muffle his groan.

“Jesus, Keith, don’t move —”

“I’m fine,” Keith interrupts gruffly. He grits his teeth and drags himself upright, ignoring the way the pain makes his ears ring. “Leave me alone.”

Keith’s movement makes Lance’s hand shoot out on reflex, but he stops himself right before he makes contact. He meets Keith’s gaze, glaring heavily.

“Don’t be a dumbass. Let me help you.”

Keith bites back the urge to tell him what he thinks of his help, because he knows that’s a step too far, even though he really wants to take it. Some part of him, something mean and angry that he can barely keep a hold on, wants to hurt Lance’s feelings as much as Lance’s weird mixed signals have been hurting him, lately. Worse.

Keith has more control than that. He will have more control than that.

“I’m fine,” he insists again. “Training’s over. You won. Go brag to Hunk, or something.”

Lance does nothing for a moment, then he sighs, getting to his feet and walking away.

Keith’s heart sinks, even though he doesn’t want Lance’s help and he’s perfectly capable of handling himself. It’s good that Lance is leaving him alone. Keith doesn’t fuckin’ need him. He’s handled himself since he was twelve goddamn years old, thanks ever so, and that’s not going to change now.

Only Lance doesn’t walk out the training room door. Instead he walks over to where he’s discarded his jacket, digging through the pockets for a moment before pulling out something long and thin, rounded on the edges and an off-white colour. He shoots it at Keith, and before he can speak up to ask Lance what the hell he’s doing, a blue laser shoots from the white thing.

A scanner.

Lance runs it over Keith’s back and torso, then mutters something angrily to himself, too quiet for Keith to hear, and tucks the scanner on his jeans pocket, walking back over to Keith.

“You threw out your back, stupid,” he informs him. “That shit’s not going away. Let’s go. Can you stand?”

Keith wants to argue, but finds that he’s…exhausted. All the pain hits him at once and he barely stops himself from sagging forward so as to not hurt his back any further.

“Probably.”

Lance helps him anyway, putting one of Keith’s arms around his broad shoulders before slowly helping him stand.

It hurts like hell, and Keith lets him know it.

“Mother of fucking God that smarts like a cactus spike up the shitter fucking hell —”

“I am trying so hard,” Lance starts, voice shaking, “to be serious and helpful, dude, but I am going to lose my mind if you keep going. Please cuss like a normal person and not a cowboy that just got kicked in the nuts by a horse.”

“Hurts about the fuckin’ same,” Keith shoots back, but tries to reign it in anyway.

Lance helps him out of the training room, guiding him down the hallways until they finally make it to their rooms.

“Few more steps,” Lance says encouragingly. Any teasing attitude evaporated somewhere between when Keith hit the floor and when Lance helped him up. “You can do it, Samurai.”

They finally make it to Keith’s door, and he slaps his free hand to the lockpad and stumbles to his bed.

“Lie on your stomach,” Lance advises.

Keith furrows his brow. “Isn’t lying on your stomach bad? Aren’t you supposed to lie on your back when you hurt it?”

“Well, it’ll be pretty hard for me to massage the pain out of your muscles of you’re lying on them, dork-brain.”

Keith pauses. “Huh.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Will you just shut up and do as I say, Commander?”

“Um, no,” Keith says. For whatever reasons his heartbeat has increased, and his palms are sweaty through his gloves. “I’m just going to sleep it off. You can go now.”

Lance crosses his arm. That stubborn look enters his face, the same one he gets when he knows he’s right and he doesn’t care who agrees.

Keith has never, not even one time, won an argument with him when he gets that expression.

“Bed. Now,” he orders. “Ditch the shirt. I’ll be back in five minutes, and if you’re not doing as I say I’m going to knock you out and shove you in a healing pod.” Without waiting for a response, he turns around, marching out the door and somehow making it slam behind him, even though the doors are literally automatic and Keith has never once seen them slam before.

Keith glances at his bed. He glances at his lockpad.

It’s not like Lance can strongarm his way through Altean lock security, right?

Keith takes one step towards the door. His back twinges, and he winces.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

He chucks off his shirt, wincing as the movement makes his back twist, and gingerly lays down on his stomach. He shifts until he finds a position that hurts the least, pillow tucked under his head and over his arms.

Whatever. He’s doing this because he doesn’t want to sit in a stupid pod, not because Lance ordered him to.

As promised, his door opens again five minutes later, and Lance’s near-silent footsteps approach the bed.

“See?” he mutters. “Doesn’t kill you to listen to me.”

“I hate you.”

“Uh-huh.”

There’s a shuffling sound, then a creaking as the bed dips, and the next thing Keith knows, Lance has a leg on either side of Keith’s hips and he sits gently on Keith’s thighs, right beneath his ass.

Keith’s face flames. He shoves his face into his pillow and prays for death.

(No one has ever been this close to him in his life, probably. It’s weird.)

“My hands a freezing,” Lance says apologetically. “Might feel weird for a sec.”

Cold fingers trace gently down the curve of Keith’s spine, covered in what Keith assumes is some kind of medicinal lotion. He shivers, goosebumps erupting all over his bare flesh. The air suddenly feels suffocating.

“Where’s the pain?” Lance whispers.

Keith swallows. His throat is so dry that it takes him several attempts. “Lower back.”

The cool fingers slowly move to the backs of his hips, one on each side. Then, without warning, they dig into his flesh.

“Fucking — ow, Lance!”

“Baby.”

Keith glances back at him incredulously, face still burning. “In what world is now a good time for pet names?!”

Lance snorts, a small smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “I’m not calling you a pet name. I’m insulting you. Baby.”

Keith’s jaw drops. “You —”

“Shut up and let me focus, Mullet.”

Keith does.

But not because Lance tells him to.

Eventually he gets used to the hard kneading of Lance’s bony fingers. Every once in a while he winces as Lance digs into a particularly painful spot, and once he outright shouts in pain. Lance hurries out an apology, easing up a bit and moving to a different part.

“I suppose I should apologise,” he says after several minutes of silence, interrupting only by Keith’s various grunts of pain and relief alike.

“For being a dickhead?”

Lance laughs. Keith isn’t facing him, but he can picture his wry smile. “For goading you. I knew you were going to fuck up the takedown I did when you tried it, but I just thought you’d fall or something.” His voice gets solemn. “I didn’t think you’d get hurt for real. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry.”

His hands have stilled, thumbs no longer pressing into the knotted muscles. Only his fingertips gently trace his skin.

His fingers aren’t cold anymore, but Keith still feels goosebumps come up again.

“I could’ve done that takedown thing,” he grumbles eventually. He’s full of shit and he knows it, but he’s sure as shit not about to admit that Lance is better at a hand-to-hand manoeuvre than he is.

Lance snorts. “Yeah, right. I’ve been in gymnastics and dance classes since I was two, bonehead. I’m bendy as hell. I’m good at contorting. I do it all the time when Hunk and Pidge haven’t slept in a while, and I need to make them think they’re hallucinating monsters from sleep deprivation. You have to be practiced at this sort of thing, Mullet.”

Keith opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “What have you been doing to Hunk and Pidge?”

Lance ignores him. “Anyways. I won’t goad you into something like that again, no matter how funny it would be to see you fall on your face.” He pats Keith’s hip twice, then shifts off the bed. “All done. Try sitting up. Does it still hurt?”

Carefully, Keith pulls himself into a sitting position, expecting the same white-hot pain he felt when he sat up in the training room. But there’s nothing.

He looks to Lance with wide eyes. “Holy shit.”

Lance preens. “I’ve got magic hands,” he brags.

“Thank you,” Keith says sincerely. He can’t quite help the small smile he shoots in Lance direction.

Strangely, a light blush burns across Lance’s cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Mullet. It’s not like you and your thick head were going to go into a pod, so.” Lance coughs, rocking back on his heels. He looks anywhere but Keith.

Suddenly, a vague memory pops up into Keith’s brain, of himself at around thirteen, venting to an amused Shiro about how one of the boys in his classes, Taylor, kept bugging him about test scores and insisting on some stupid competition.

“I don’t get it, Shiro!” he had said, frustrated frown pulling the corners of his mouth down. “I don’t want to compete! I don’t know what his stupid problem is!”

Shiro had smiled, ruffling Keith’s hair. “He’s pulling your pigtails, kiddo.”

Keith frowned. “I don’t have pigtails.”

“No, I mean —” Shiro had shook his head. “Nevermind. Just ignore him, he’s just getting a reaction out of you because he doesn’t know how else to talk to you.”

Adam had snorted before Keith could comment, reaching over and tugging on Shiro’s forelock without looking up from his marking. “Familiar with the pigtail-pulling strategy, aren’t you, babe?”

Keith hadn’t understood it then, why Shiro’s face had gone bright red or why Adam had laughed louder as Shiro got more flustered. He just remembers being disgusted by their blatant gross flirting, and forgetting about the confusing words entirely.

It hits him now, though, looking at Lance’s red face, thinking about every time he’s driven Keith insane and smirked when he finally lost it, gone against Keith’s orders just to be contrary, literally tugged on Keith’s hair just to piss him off, but why he always sits next to Keith at meals and reassures Keith when he’s sure he’s not fit to lead the team.

Why he offered to rub his hands up and down Keith’s back for a half hour instead of sticking him in a pod.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, more to himself than anything. He looks at Lance with wide, unbelieving eyes.

Lance glances back at him, and his expression only makes the Cuban more red, somehow.

“I promised I’d help Coran with something,” he blurts. He points vaguely at the door, stumbling backwards. “Right now, actually. Um, bye. Don’t hurt yourself again, dumbass.”

He’s out the door before Keith can stop him, so fast there’s practically a cloud of dust where he used to be, like a cartoon.

Keith sits down heavily on his bed, still staring unblinkingly in front of him. He thinks of the way he rises to Lance’s challenges, every single time. How he always pushes himself harder when Lance is watching, like he has to make sure Lance knows how good he is. How he, too, always seeks Lance out and sits next to him during team meetings or even movie nights. How he almost always assigns them as partners on missions.

How he shivered when Lance’s cool fingers touched his skin.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, a smile fighting its way onto his face. He yanks gently on his own hair.

Butterflies erupt in his stomach.

#i love making them stupid it’s so fun for me #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #lance #lance mcclain #klance #pre klance #pining lance #oblivious keith #dumbass lance #dumbass keith #they’re so fucking stupid #rivals to rivals #bamf lance #gymnast lance #brown-eyed lance #black paladin keith #red paladin lance #injury #my writing #fic #longpost

[vinvantae]

oof please write a second part to ‘hooked’!! i loved it so much :’D

I would absolutely love to :) Don't write enough angst, lets get into it

Part one can be found here

(side note: theres not enough gifs of these two fr)

warnings: unrequited feelings, angst, reader is an even bigger asshole, pierre is an asshole and Dan gives off ‘nice guy’ vibes at points sorry lol

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

Unrequited

"You know there's girls out there who aren't just using you, right?"

Daniel looked up from his phone as Max held out a drink to him, a pitiful look on his face - as once again you'd cancelled plans last minute with a I'll let you know if I end up being free later, knowing full well the Australian would sit around all evening just waiting for you to text him again.

"She's not-"

"You know she is, don't lie to me." Max said, sitting beside him. "She's into Pierre. But she knows she can get you to do whatever she wants."

The older driver sighed a little and placed his phone down on the table. "I don't know why she's got this hook in me."

"Because she always lets you think that someday there could be something." The dutchman explained. "Remember that event we all got invited to and when you asked if you wanted to go together she said 'maybe next time' even though she has no intentions of that ever happening."

"Do you think it's because of him?"

Almost on cue, Pierre stepped into the hotel bar with you trailing behind him - laughing at something he said, fluttering your eyelashes at him. The Frenchman didn't even look at you when you looped your arm around his - instead choosing to talk to Charles. Dan knew he should be bothered that you'd so blatantly ditched him last minute for Pierre but he couldn't get over just how beautiful you looked and couldn't believe the Alpha Tauri driver barely gave you a second of his time.

"I don't think she realises what she's doing to you is exactly what Pierre is doing to her. She's not innocent in this. She could easily let you off of the hook but instead she's keeping you close just in case she needs something." Max rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers when he realised Daniel wasn't paying attention to him.

Dan's eyes flickered across Max's face for a brief moment, knowing he was going to regret his next words. "I'm just going to say hi."

"You're an idiot."

"Yep."

He threw back the last mouthful of his drink before moving across the bar, putting on his trademark friendly smile. You didn't even seem surprised to see him, your own desperation for Pierre to pay attention to you melting into a pretty smile. When you let go of the Frenchman to give Dan a hug, he realised now Pierre seemed to think you were the only person in the room.

"y/n, amour, come here... your necklace." He placed his hand on your shoulder to extract you from Daniel's embrace, turning you to face him so he could adjust the dainty but expensive looking chain around your neck. "Looks so pretty on her, don't you think Daniel?"

Dan's jaw clenched a little - desperate not to let Pierre get to him, but the way he touched you made it hard. "Beautiful."

You placed a hand over the small charm. "Pierre got it for me, isn't he a sweetheart?"

“I’m sure you would have rather he had actually turned up for your birthday though, no?” The Australian countered, knowing you’d pulled the exact move on him not months before.

Dismissively you waved his claim off, eyes twinkling at you looked to Pierre. “He had something come up last minute, he’ll be there next time.”

Next time. Not right now. Maybe another time. All of the classic phrases you used to keep Daniel hopeful. The driver wanted to snap himself out of it, seeing you get what you gave should have been enough to tell him that you were just stringing him along but it only made him more determined to prove to you that he deserved a chance.

He did show up to your birthday. He always paid attention to you. It was clear to him that Pierre didn’t want you but he didn’t want anyone else to have you either. You were just some pretty thing that kept him entertained if he wasn’t swanning off with some teenage model.

“Y/n, since we’re both here. Can I buy you a drink?” Dan asked, his voice soft. “Pierre and Charles seem to have some stuff to catch up on.”

Pierre rolled his eyes, pulling you into his side - his tanned hand splayed across your hip. “She’s perfectly fine here. Besides, you’ve left your friend alone, that doesn’t seem fair. Why don’t you run along?”

Daniel let his eyes flicker to you, just hoping for once you’d put him above Pierre. But, and he shouldn’t have been surprised, you avoided eye contact - letting the Frenchman pull you in for a gentle kiss on the cheek, enough to make your cheeks flush pink.

“You know what, don’t come crying to me again when he ditches you for some random girl. He doesn’t want you, y/n.” Dan regretted opening his mouth as soon as he did, but he kept going. “Once you realise that I’d actually treat you how you deserve, I’ll be waiting.”

He didn’t even give you a moment to respond before he stormed off - leaving you, Pierre and Charles all speechless. The man beside you chuckled softly, tilting your chin up a little to look at him, before brushing his thumb across your jaw.

“Don’t listen to him, amour. I’m here with you right now, aren’t I?” He hummed softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You smiled, feeling a little weak at the knees. He was here. “I know, thank you.”

Max wanted to be smug as Daniel returned to the table, but as he friend slumped defeated into the seat beside him. He gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Sorry mate.”

Dan shrugged. “Knew what I was getting myself into. You’re right. It’s always going to be him.”

The Dutchman suggested getting out of the bar, finding someplace else to waste their evening away - earning a nod from his friend. You watched as the two of them left, chewing at the inside of your cheek as Pierre was once again not paying you much attention. Maybe Daniel had a point but even when the man you came with told you that he was heading out with some girl he just met, and that he was ‘so sorry, we’ll hang out for real soon. Promise.’, you wanted to believe him so badly.

Maybe it was a mistake to go to Daniel’s despite him telling you not to but there was nowhere else, no one else you wanted to talk to. As you wrapped your hand on the door, the look of surprise on his face almost made you feel guilty.

“Y/n, you’re here…”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “Pierre went home with another girl and-“

He sighed and folded his arms across his chest. “I told you. I’m not going to listen to you cry over him anymore, so if that’s what this is… you need to go.”

You should’ve gone. That was exactly what this was. Your heart was Pierre’s but instead you found yourself leaning in and pressing a kiss to your teammates lips - him not even missing a beat before he kissed you back.

Daniel pulled back, just enough to let his eyes flicker across your face with shock. “Tell me that this isn’t just to make him jealous.”

It is. “It’s not.”

His face lit up into a big smile before he pulled you inside, pressing his lips to yours once more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, sinking into it. Just because you didn’t have those feelings for him, doesn’t mean you could get them right? And maybe Pierre would finally see what he’s missing… right?

Daniel wasn’t naive, he couldn’t really believe you were just suddenly over Pierre but he would take whatever he could get. This was astronomical levels of stupid, but it was too late to turn back now. You were finally kissing him. It was all he’d wanted since he laid his eyes on you.

He just had to try and made sure it lasted.

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

Oof. Y/n is a bit of a cow isn’t she

Hope you enjoyed it regardless!!

#daniel ricciardo #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #ricciardo x reader #f1 #formula one #x reader #Pierre Gasly #Pierre Gasly x reader

[sasster]

Made It Out Alive

So there I was, on the train ride home from class, and I thought.. Man. I’m gonna write something really indulgent. Hope you guys like it as much as I do! [Doc] —

Turning from the stove to the counter, with a knife and cutting board in hand, Lopard comes face to face with a jade blooded nuisance who smiles back at him from his seated position upon it.

The orange blood rolls his eyes.

“Get your ass off of my counter if you want to keep it.” He warns, waving the knife in the air for emphasis.

“Two problems with that, chief,” the nuisance starts, despite jumping off the counter with an ‘oof’ when his feet hit the ground. “S’not your counter and that’s a stupid threat.”

Once again Lopard rolls his eyes, but happy that there would no longer be an ass where he plans to chop vegetables, he carries on his prepwork.

“I’m sure Areios doesn’t want your ass on his counter either. Make yourself useful and—”

Before the command even leaves his mouth, Demuye is already behind him setting some pots to boil and pulling seasonings from cabinets.

“Yeah, yeah, on it boss man.” He says with a smile he doesn’t bother fighting.

Just as the pair are getting into the groove of cooking together, the owner of the hive paces his way into the kitchen with large, frantic steps that would shake the foundation of a less secure building, worrying the front of his shirt between two very anxious hands. Lopard barely gets to open his mouth before his much smaller “babysitter” comes toddling in behind him, on legs much too short to keep up with the exaggerated gait of the behemoth.

Thuein pauses to catch his breath, resting both hands on his thighs as he heaves.

“Running a marathon?” Demuye questions with ill-contained humor, only to receive a sharp look from the therapist in response.

Areios paces his way to the far end of the kitchen and stares at the undecorated stone for several seconds as silence overtakes the kitchen. His three guests exchange worried glances with each other.

Slowly, unable to be serious for too long, Demuye raises a hand and presses his index finger to the tip of his nose.

Thuein copies the motion.

For the third time in such a short stretch, Lopard finds himself rolling his eyes.

“Alright big guy,” He says as he wipes his hands clean on a dish towel. “What’s eating at you so bad that our best and brightest can’t help you keep it together?”

Truthfully, his annoyance with Demuye and Thuein doesn’t last long. It is barely a fizzle before it dies out on its own, really. As the oldest of this portion of their inner circle, he’d been used to wrangling everyone in for some time now. A part of him thrives on it, if he had to be honest with himself.

Areios lets his shoulders slump forward, too prideful maybe to face his friends as he speaks. “Do you think he’s actually going to come?” He finally asks, after his own silence becomes too much for even him to stand.

Once again the three exchange looks that the behemoth can’t see. Demuye seems annoyed at the notion, indicated by him sucking his teeth, Thuein only frowns, and Lopard lets out a resigned sigh.

“I don’t think he’d lie about something like that.”

Areios inhales sharply and exhales in a way that suggests he wishes, right now at least, that he was smaller than he is.

“What if he gets here and realizes he hates me as much as--”

“Ah,” Lopard interjects, holding up a hand that the other party cannot see but heeds regardless. “I’m not entertaining that sort of talk. He’s going to come and we’re going to have a great time. Just like we always do.”

The orange blood crosses the kitchen and pats Areios on the back.

“I’d beat his ass otherwise.” He offers and gets a laugh out of the purple blood.

“Imagine the emotional toll that’d take on you.”

“Smashing those guys is like second nature to me. Now get out before I put the pair of you to work.”

Demuye emphasizes Lopard’s point by slamming a pot onto the counter and Areios laughs again, putting up both hands, as he and Thuein leave the way they came.

Thuein mouths a ‘thank you’ to Lopard on the way out.

“We really don’t pay you enough.” Bemoans a more than humored Demuye, shaking his head, while Lopard returns to his post.

“Yeah, I’ll have to garnish it from somewhere.”

“If you touch my check, and I mean this so seriously, I’ll skin you.”

—

Later the hive is alive with chatter, the way it used to be when Areios housed most or all of the current guests in their respective times of need. The intoxicating bouquet of Lopard’s cooking carries from the kitchen to the large front room that most of the trolls occupied.

His chest swells with pride each time someone so much as compliments the smell of the goods. It is nice knowing that his hard work is appreciated, after all. Soon the smell will be overshadowed by someone else's, probably Achina’s, baking skills. But for now, the pride was all his.

Lopard plops, exhausted, on a couch between the host and a violet blooded sailor who the pair have not seen in countless sweeps, waving a three fingers hand around as he exposits what’d happened to him in those sweeps.

“It hasn’t been all that crazy,” Velrum concludes, shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalant manner that suggests he was merely describing a shopping trip and not a literal odyssey. “I was on the sea. That’s where I came from, so it wasn’t awful.” He lets his good fin flair for emphasis.

Lanaen, seated in a chair across from them, scoffs.

“Were your more stuck-up personality traits concussed out of you, then?”

“Quite possibly. And yours?”

“Oh, no. He’s still very much a dick.” Lopard chimes in before Lanaen can defend himself, and the four of them enjoy a good laugh at the fuchsia’s expense.

It has always been too long since the last time they gathered everyone together like this and the hive itself is practically a flutter with it’s own life.

Lopard chances a glance to a corner of the living room occupied by Zurven, of all people, signing away in a conversation with Isnons who appears to have turned off his hearing aid for the evening.

Each of the pair jumped at the chance when they heard that the other would definitely be in attendance, masterful trickery executed by Thuein and Achina, who were convinced neither would come otherwise.

From what he can make out from his bout of eavesdropping Isnons just wrote his first book and Zurven’s gotta get his hands on it.

He smiles to himself, satisfied that he would not have to field any angry partners  for a botched night out. He hardly notices when Velrum and Lanaen leave the room, absorbed in yet another conversation.

This one possibly about the former’s missing fingers.

“See, we’re having fun.” Lopard nudges a shoulder up against Areios as he speaks. “Regardless.”

“Yeah. It’s always nice having everyone back together. Makes the hive feel less lonely.”

“I think that’s called empty nest syndrome.”

“Look at me, your sad mama bird.”

Lopard only laughs and nudges him again.

Very suddenly, Holoth appears in their space, beaming despite the way sleepiness decorates her features.

“Does that mean I can call you mommy?” She inquires, brightly.

“Please don’t.”

“C’mon guys, I brought something you need to see.” She quickly pivots, seizing Areios by the arm and giving him a tug that actually pulls him to his feet.

Nonplussed, he follows her lead with Lopard bringing up the rear.

Holoth leads the two of them outside, away from the excitement of the hive and closer to the cliff that overlooks the sea. It does not take long for Lopard to recognize the form of a troll pacing back and forth at the end of it, but he is certain that Areios cannot make it out, what with his deteriorating eyesight and all.

He turns his surprise on Holoth who only winks back at him. Then she trudges forward with the giant in tow until he and the pacing figure stop short, staring at each other.

Briefly, Lopard thinks that it was very wise of her to not bring him inside for this reunion. He would never tell her the thought, lest everyone have to reckon with her ego for the foreseeable future.

She gives Areios a shove and he continues the rest of the way on his own, where he and the newcomer continue to stare at each other in stunned silence.

What must be running through their heads right now?

“Areios, I’m so sorry I--”

The full apology dies in the doctor’s throat when  Areios, unable to contain himself, wraps him up in his arms and crushes him into his chest.

“I missed you so much, Aelium.”

#yes it IS 9am but i can’t contain myself any longer #long post #<3 <3<3 #my babies!!! #trust there are more of them somewhere in the hive… but i couldn’t possibly include like achina and #nhomos and vitius and parcae and etc etc without running my brain ragged #lopard #demuye #thuein #areios #achina #velrum #lanaen #holly #im really only tagging the guys who got speaking parts because #zurven and isnons are there and whatever but you really only get the gist of their conversation #am i stalling? #yeah #aelium #this is for me but i really want other people to like it too you must understand #coko writes sometimes

[kivaember]

woe, ftm walter be upon ye (yes this is actually canon to apv btw)

Somedays, Carla had to laugh at how far she'd fallen.

Well-respected Institute scientist, lauded for her efforts in the C-weapon project and incorporating Coral into AI neural networks... reduced to a penniless scrapper in the underbelly of one of Ganymede's colonies, barely making ends meet because of the UEG's broken form of capitalism.

It was intentional to an extent, though. If it had just been her, riding the massive wave of Rubiconian refugees after the Fires had slagged their planet to smouldering ash, she would've thrust her hand up high and declared her credentials at the immigration office. The UEG had hoovered up every single scientist or technician it could get its greedy little paws on in the aftermath, and from what Carla had seen they were living it large right now. A luxurious little corporate cage as they regurgitated all of Rubicon's little technological miracles for the UEG to warp and manipulate.

She hoped they choked on their feed, honestly, but she was self-aware enough to know that would've been her too, if she'd been alone. But she wasn't.

"Hey, Walter! It's time to close up shop!"

Her voice rang across their large, open garage, cluttered with broken down machinery and mechs alike, a literal maze of trip hazards and health violations that would've gotten her shutdown if this was on the surface. But it wasn't. No one gave a shit what anyone did down here in the slums, so long as their little worker bees kept on working, kept on producing... and didn't, gasp, form unions.

Carla was a one-man show, though- okay, technically three, if you counted Walter and Chatty, but she was wisely keeping away from that business. All power to the people and all that, fuck the bourgeois, eat the rich, etc, etc, but Carla had a purpose she was gunning for, and social liberation didn't come under that. So, for now, it was just her and Walter, working in a deathtrap of a scrapper garage, with Chatty sitting quietly in the background pretending to be dumb security system rather than a fully fledged AI (that can and has ran circles around the security AIs on Ganymede - lots of dirty laundry in many people's drawers on this moon).

A groaning, screeching rattle echoed through the garage, signifying the shutter doors being closed. Carla pushed herself up from where she'd been squatting over a dismembered construction mech arm, trying to extract the intact gyroscopes inside. These things sold pretty sell second hand... or third... or fourth... well, you got the idea.

"Oof, all this bending over is ruining my back..." she grumbled, pressing her oil-stained hands against her lower back and applying pressure, feeling how tight and knotted it was. "I feel old as shit."

"You are old as shit."

Carla scoffed and turned to see Walter lurking in the shadows like the anti-social freak that he was. His brown hair was a little flyaway than usual, darkened from where he'd accidentally rubbed oil into it from his hands, and his mechanic jumpsuit was partially unzipped, his pale skin faintly flushed from exertion and damp with sweat.

He was a lot more modest about the unzipping, though. Carla had whacked hers down all the way to the midriff, because this shitty garage got hot no matter how much she tried finangling some kind of air conditioning down here. The air was too full of smog and other pollutants that trapped heat and discouraged the human way of cooling down via sweat evaporation. It was a torturous existence... and made Carla and Walter walk around like they were auditioning for some kind of "Mechanics Gone Wild!" calendar.

"Hey, you shouldn't be backtalking your boss like that!" Carla mock-scolded, planting her hands on her hips. "What if I decided to dock your pay?"

"Well, you'd have to pay me first," Walter said flatly, pinching the front of his jumpsuit and flapping it slightly to cool himself down. "I'm working here for free, remember?"

"Oh yeah. That's true," Carla hummed, cupping her jaw thoughtfully. "Well! Carry on, then! Can't control you if I'm not in charge of your pay, haha!"

Walter rolled his eyes, forever unimpressed with her cavalier attitude and jokes, despite her best attempts. He was too much like his father sometimes, though Carla knew better than to say that. Walter had more daddy issues than an entire soap opera cast combined, and the one time she'd made a comment about how Walter was looking more like his father now that he was a little older and.... brrrrr! The dark side of the moon had been tropical in comparison!

this kid, she thought exasperatedly, he needs to loosen up...

"Got any plans tonight?" she asked as they made their way to the rear of the garage, where they both lived out of. It wasn't anything impressive compared to their immaculate lodgings on the Xylem in another lifetime, but compared to the rest of the gutter rats around here, they were living it up large. Two bedrooms for privacy and their own kitchen and bathroom with functioning plumbing? They were like royalty! Royal rats, the pair of them, hah.

"None," Walter replied. "Why, do you need me for something?"

"Yeah, as a chaperone," Carla teased, nudging him with her elbow. "We should hit up the bars. You're an adult now, you should be living it large before we've gotta focus on the job."

Walter's expression said he'd rather belly crawl over barbed wire.

"I'd rather belly crawl over barbed wire," he said.

"Aw, c'mon! Stop being a Debbie Downer." Carla nudged him with her elbow, and weaved out of the way when he tried to nudge her back. "You're really going to leave me hanging? Leave your old as shit guardian to wander the bars alone... defenceless... helpless against any ne'er-do-wells-"

Walter snorted. "You're anything but helpless. If anything I should be protecting the local population from you, cougar."

"Cougar! Well, you're right. I do like my men young and cute," Carla teased with a wink, just to see his reaction. Which was....!!! Nothing. Guy didn't even flinch.

"Right. So, I'd just cramp your cougar style," Walter said simply. "Being a cute young man and all. They'd all think you're taken... or asking for a threesome. I wouldn't want to ruin your night like that."

"Hm." Carla was reluctantly amused. "You've gotten very sassy, Walter."

"That's your fault."

Yup, and she was proud of it. Walter had been such a humourless little thing as a child - through no fault of his own, admittedly. Growing up in the Xylem had been a lonely, neglectful existence, and being uprooted from that to flee to a colony that viewed him as nothing but an unwanted mouth to feed just compounded whatever fucked up issues that childhood of neglect had lain the foundations for. It made sense that whatever sense of humour Carla tried to impart in him turned all warped and twisted and a little mean.

But! Humour was humour! When things got bad, all you had to do was laugh! Walter wasn't the laughing type, but she'd take this! Better than nothing!

"Well, you're coming out anyway," she said. "No ifs or buts! You've just been rotting away in your room, brooding about pointless crap. Just come out and have a few drinks. Unwind a little."

"No."

"I'll have Chatty recite all the poetry I wrote since we left-"

"Okay, just a few drinks," Walter immediately u-turned.

Hah. Gottem.

-

If growing up with Carla taught Walter one thing, it was learning how to pick his battles.

He wasn't a drinker, and the bars down in the slums were as seedy as you'd expected: the alcohol was moonshine or contrabrand, drugs were commonly traded in the background, and there was always a risk of the Ganymede Guards crashing the party to arrest a few people for encouraging socialist gatherings. Walter just didn't see the point in getting involved in that crap, but Carla always was seduced by dangerous or ill-advised things.

She also had a short attention span. As they stood at the bar, knocking back the probably toxic swill being sold, Carla eventually got pulled away by some people she knew in the scrapping business, her obnoxiously loud laughter audible even over the ambient chatter.

Walter took that as his cue to finish his drink and leave.

Broken glass crunched under his boots as he stepped out into the street, burying his hands into the pockets of his mechanic jumpsuit. The air was smoggy and thick with a wet, unpleasant smell, making him feel like he was in a rancid sauna, and he unzipped his jumpsuit that little bit more, fanning himself.

He couldn't wait to leave this place.

From the moment he had stepped foot on this damned moon, he had despised every inch of it. The Xylem had been cold and loveless, yes, but the air hadn't stank of exhaust, it wasn't constantly hot and humid, with changing seasons and weather, he could see the sky and watch the birds fly, his hands would only have the callouses from holding a pen, rather than being rough and worn like leather from constant handling of scrapping tools and sticky oil. Walter's life would be very different, if his father hadn't ruined everything.

He stopped in front of the door to his and Carla's living quarters in the garage, digging out the key from his pocket and slotting it in. When he stepped inside, he was greeted with Chatty saying: "Welcome back, kid. Is the Chief still out?"

"Yeah." Walter kicked the door shut behind him. "Talking shop with some people."

"Understood."

And that was that. Despite the name Chatty was pretty quiet, which was why he and Walter got along well. He headed up the narrow staircase to his room, which was sandwiched between Carla's room and the bathroom, and just wide enough to slot a single-man bed in there with enough room for him to actually get in and out of it.

Walter felt grimy as hell, so he shed his boots and jumpsuit entirely, tossing the soiled clothing onto the floor before walking, completely naked, to the bathroom, yanking the cord to turn the light on. As he shut the door behind him, he looked at the cracked mirror Carla had broken when bolting onto the wall. She'd laughed that her luck was already so bad that this should cancel it out.

His reflection was uncomfortably familiar.

As a child, he'd been told often that he looked a lot like his mother. Standard biases, of course: for a considerable chunk of his childhood, he'd stayed as his assigned sex, a quiet little daughter that was easily forgotten about by most people. The moment he'd stepped out of that easily assigned box, became a son hungry for attention instead of the quiet daughter, people immediately switched to well, he's looking a lot like his father nowadays, isn't he?

Truth was, Walter had looked like both of them. He had his mother's bone structure, but his father's eyes, and his hair was a combination of them both: slightly wavy where his mother's was curly and his father's completely straight. He hadn't really put much stock into his appearance back then, anyways. He'd been ten. He just wanted people to call him Walter. What did it matter who he looked more like at the time?

Now, though, he looked in the mirror and saw his father.

What lingering remnants of his mother were easily overlooked by the sharp line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes, his hair cropped short enough that it was hard to see the slight waviness. He lowered his gaze, to his body which was well-toned with muscle from years of hauling heavy machinery and scrap, his shoulders broad and his trunk solid enough that it partially hid the slight curve of his hips. Didn't do anything to hide his breasts, but he already had a plan for those, if this Furlong Dynamics pilot recruitment programme worked out.

It was strange, though. The more he carved away the parts that were like his mother, the more his father shone through, and the more complicated Walter felt about the whole thing. He hated his father, despised him from the very depths of his soul, regretted every day his failed attempt to kill him before everything went completely pear-shaped... and now he was even tainting this, having Walter's stomach clench and his face tighten at his reflection, at the ghost of his father hidden in there.

He wasn't the same as him, though... he was going to put to rights what Dr Kohler had done wrong. He'd make it so he could look himself at the mirror without wanting to flinch... either because he'd succeed in destroying the Coral for good, or because he'd die in the process. Either or.

"Kid. You've been staring at the mirror for five minutes."

"I'm fine," Walter said, anticipating Chatty's follow up question. He turned away and turned on the shower, watching as the metallic smelling water spluttered out of the showerhead sluggishly. "Just thinking."

"Hm."

Chatty left it there, and Walter neatly compartmentalised his complicated feelings and stuffed them under the figurative bed. It was a pointless thing to brood about, didn't contribute at all towards his mission. Being Walter was a selfish self-indulgence anyways, the one thing he allowed himself, despite the looming pressure of the trials to come.

What did it matter who he looked liked? That legacy was going to be buried, one way or another.

#armored core #armored core 6 #handler walter #cinder carla #fanfic #me patting walter like “this guy can hold so much messed up and complicated trauma!” #i love apv walter he's just a little guy #who commits war crimes #well that's basically everyone in armored core 6 let's be real #apv compliant

[clearwillow]

Happy Spooky Season Love! I'm here to ask you all about the ask game. ☺️

Let's see, let's ask 💔,⛔️, 👐, & 🧠(do our fav heroin Kagome for this one).

Oh you picked some fun ones!

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

Actually yeah. Parts of Strange, Pretend You're Mine, and The Highest Bidder were heavy-hitters when I went back and reread them. The first two not so much during editing, but I put some space between writing and editing the third and oof lol

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

Yep, there's been a couple. One was one that I thought would be a oneshot and then too much plot happened, I got frustrated, and ended up tabling it. I'll probably come back to it when I've got the time to properly write it, cause trying to jump between the past and present like I was really didn't do it justice. There's another one, a darker one, that I'm never going to revisit. I considered it, but the ending wouldn't be satisfactory for what horrible things happen in it.

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

For Kagome... I figured there was some way that she'd leave a sign of how her life in the past was going for her family to find. Like a time capsule of sorts. There was a lot of trial and error getting something that would be sustained for that length of time, and she'd periodically go back to the location to see if it had disappeared. There was part of her that was skeptical if it'd work, but the day she did see the hole empty, she sobbed in relief.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

Gonna drop it under a cut cause of the length, but I shared this as a Sunday Sampler on Patreon last month. Part of the Making Waves universe.

Inuyasha stared at the pink-purple stone that lay in the palm of his hand. The imitation puka shell fragments that surrounded it on either side on the cord were stark white. They were most likely the product of some corporation for seasonal aesthetic jewelry meant for tourists, but the polished stone… it was very much the real deal. The merman never thought that he’d lay his eyes on one of the Sacred Jewels of the seven seas.

He certainly never expected that his childhood friend-turned-wife would own one.

After their honeymoon, on the next available day that his family would come to the shore, the pair brought the necklace to Touga for inspection. Kagome had barely removed the necklace from its drawstring bag before the shriek from Inukimi nearly made her drop it.

“How did you get that?!” the older woman gasped.

Kagome looked confused. “I…I got it from the boardwalk…” she said slowly. “It was one of the prizes at a game booth…”

Inukimi looked like she was a step away from hyperventilating. “Sacred…Sea…b-board…walk…g-game…pr-pr –”

Touga reached up and began to rub his wife’s back, telling her to take small breaths before she caused a scene. Izayoi looked just as confused as Kagome, and both were looking to Sesshomaru for some kind of explanation. Inuyasha wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was hoping for one too. All he knew of were old tales that weren’t enough to go on.

“My mother,” he sighed, “is having a moment because – upon first look at your necklace – it resembles one of the Sacred Jewels of the seven seas. That particular stone is highly sought after and extremely rare in this day and age.”

“You know you could have been more helpful,” Inuyasha frowned. He’d already told Kagome that much.

“Perhaps you should be more specific, little brother.”

“We want to know if it’s real –”

“Do I look like a magi –”

Touga cleared his throat, ending the argument before it could get started. “What our daughter-in-law has in her possession is in fact one of the Sacred Jewels,” he spoke calmly. “It doesn’t matter how she came to be its owner. What does matter is that she has one of the most precious gifts the sea has to offer.”

Inuyasha crossed his arms, looking put out by that statement. “I’m her husband!”

“You’re second most precious,” Sesshomaru snickered.

“You’re my number one,” Kagome told Inuyasha. He perked up after that.

“Alright, the most precious gift the sea has to offer…that doesn’t have a pulse.” Touga rubbed his forehead, looking pained that he had to amend his comments in the first place. When he looked up at Kagome again, he nodded to the necklace in her hands. “That stone holds a very unique ability. If you wear it in the ocean, you will be granted the gift of the merfolk.”

#asks #fanfic ask game

[bestillmyslashyheart]

soulmate au part 9/11

part 8 || on ao3

It was early when the knock on the door came, early enough that Kinn strongly considered ignoring it. If it was truly important, whoever it was would come in without waiting for him to respond, after all. And, Kinn cracked one eye open a sliver to see Porsche’s bare back littered with colors. It was still dark in his room but with Porsche lying on top of Kinn, his back was right there for Kinn to appreciate. Porsche was still asleep but Kinn felt no shame in running his hand up and down his back, pausing at his ass to squeeze lightly. A second round of knocking was enough to get Porsche moving, his leg shifting up between Kinn’s, and Kinn decided he really didn’t care who it was or why they were knocking. He grabbed Porsche’s hips and rolled him over so that Kinn was braced above him.

“Come in!” Porsche yelled. Kinn stared at him, betrayed. Porsche rolled his eyes. “It’s 4am, it’s probably important.”

“It is not,” Kinn argued even as they heard the door open. He dropped completely onto Porsche, ignoring his “oof”, and started kissing his neck.

“Khun…Kinn,” Ken greeted. “Porsche. Sorry for interrupting.”

Porsche shoved at Kinn’s shoulders. “What is it?”

“It’s Tawan.”

Kinn groaned out loud and rolled off of Porsche. “What now?”

Ken held out his phone. “I switched guard duty with Pol this evening and pretended to fall asleep on duty. Tawan left his room and went to the courtyard outside the mess so I followed him and I overheard him on the phone.” He pressed play on a recording. It didn’t take long for Kinn to recognize Tawan’s voice.

“You didn’t tell me he was marked,” Tawan hissed angrily. “You said he was maybe fooling around with his bodyguard! That, I could have worked with that, asshole. I can’t do anything if he’s marked.” There was a long pause, presumably where he was listening to whoever was on the other end of the line. “No. No! You have to get me out of here. I don’t- I don’t care how! I told you going in that the only way they don’t put a bullet in my head is if I can get Kinn to defend me. You’re the one who failed to mention that that wasn’t going to happen.” Another pause. “If you leave me here, I will tell them everything. Everything, Vegas. From two years ago to two days ago when you brought me to the Italians for this stupid plan of yours.”

Ken stopped the recording. For a moment, no one said a word.

“Now can I kill Vegas?” Porsche finally asked. 

—

The fight to get Porsche to stay behind was one Kinn could have done without. He understood it, he did, but putting an angry Porsche in the same room as his father was just asking for trouble and it wasn’t something he wanted to deal with. He almost put a guard on the door to keep Porsche inside but he thought that might be going a step too far so he went with plan B. 

Kinn let himself into the room and closed the door on Ken outside. He crept quietly down the hall and knocked on the bedroom door. It took a moment but then the door eased open.

“P’Kinn?” Chay rubbed at his eyes. Then he froze and his eyes sprung wide open. “Is Por-”

“Porsche is fine,” Kinn assured him. “But I need to go speak to my father and we agreed it was best Porsche not come with me. He’s a little upset and alone in our room and I thought-” He didn’t get a chance to finish before Chay was turning from the doorway to shove his feet into a pair of slippers. That done, he came back to Kinn and shooed him back.

“Let’s go,” he urged. Kinn obediently stepped out of his way and let Chay lead him out of his suite. He locked the door behind him when Chay set off immediately for Kinn’s rooms around the corner. 

“Chay,” he called after him. “Wait a moment.” He nodded at the guard who’d been outside his doors overnight. “There’s no guard on the door right now.”

Chay waved him off. He was already at the corner where the hallway turned to Kinn’s quarters. “I’m fine. I can see your door and then I’ll be with Porsche.” He waved goodbye to Kinn and disappeared out of sight.

“Sir?” The guard asked.

“Follow him,” Kinn ordered. Even if it was only a few steps, he wasn’t letting anything happen to Chay inside his own house. The guard nodded and took off at a quick walk.

That done, Kinn set off for his father’s rooms with Ken just behind him. “Why are you doing this?” He asked as they walked. “There was no need for you to switch shifts with Pol or update Porsche earlier.” There was a pause and Kinn looked over his shoulder to see Ken’s face draw tight. “Ken?”

“Do you remember Perth, sir?”

Something in his voice made Kinn come to a stop and face him properly. He nodded. “I do. He worked here for three years before he was killed while he was off duty in the Triad’s territory.”

Ken nodded. “I got him this job, sir,” he admitted. “His mother was friends with mine and he struggled finding work after leaving the military so she asked for my help.” Ken met Kinn’s eyes. “He was following Tawan the night he was killed. On my orders.”

Kinn accepted that with due solemnity. “You filed a report, yes?”

“I did,” Ken agreed.

Kinn glanced over his shoulder at the empty hallway. “I want to see it.”

“It was sealed. By Khun Korn’s orders.” Which meant it would need his father’s order to unseal it. Kinn couldn’t guarantee that Ken’s word would be enough to convince his father of the need.

“Arm’s good with computers, isn’t he?”

Ken smirked. “He is, sir.” He didn’t wait for Kinn’s order before taking off in the opposite direction. The bodyguard quarters were on the opposite side of the compound but this early in the morning, with no one in the hallways, it didn’t take long to get there. Ken didn’t need to check which room was Arm’s and knocked firmly on the door. Arm answered after only a few seconds wait. He was still dressed, though not in his usual suit, and had dark circles under his eyes. He blinked at Ken in confusion then straightened when he noticed Kinn behind him. “Khun Kinn.” He stepped back and Ken and Kinn followed him inside. 

Kinn took in the small mess here and there before honing in on Arm’s desk. His computer was up and running with three monitors on. “What are you working on?”

Arm glanced at the monitors. “I’m providing support for Pete, sir. He is at the minor family’s house.”

Kinn narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t informed of this.”

Arm’s brow furrowed slightly. “You told us to find evidence against Vegas.” There was a slight question in his tone.

“Yes,” Kinn agreed. “But I expected I would be kept informed of your operation.”

Arm bowed his head, his eyes on the floor. “I apologize, sir. Vegas cornered us when we were out with Khun Tankhun and asked to speak with Pete privately. Given our assignment, we agreed that Pete would go with him and I would monitor from here.”

Kinn frowned. “Alright,” he allowed. “But I want to know everything from here on out. In the meantime, I need you to access a sealed case report for me.” He motioned to Ken who stepped forward.

“I know the file number,” he told Arm. Arm slid into his chair and turned to his monitors, quickly pulling up the internal file directory. Ken read off the file number and Arm pulled it up.

“It was sealed by Khun Korn’s order almost two years ago,” Arm reported.

“I know. Open it.”

Arm’s fingers stilled over his keyboard and he half turned to Kinn. “I-”

“You’re doing this on my order and I don’t care how you have to do it,” Kinn cut him off. 

“Understood.” He turned back to his computer and did…something. After only a few moments, the file opened up.

Kinn made a mental note to confirm Arm’s loyalty even as he stepped up behind him and read Ken’s report. Everything Ken had told him was detailed in black and white. Tawan had left the mansion alone with only a bag with him around 1:30 in the morning. Ken had assigned Perth to follow him. Perth reported back at 1:57am that Tawan was seen entering the minor family’s house. He made no further reports and his body was discovered three blocks away at 6:32am by local police. The coroner’s report stated that he had been dead for over three hours at the time his body was discovered. 

“Print that out.” He wanted a copy in hand when he spoke with his father. A moment later he had it. Kinn looked it over to make sure all details were there then looked back up at the monitors. “Keep me updated about Pete.”

“Of course, Khun Kinn.”

Kinn was halfway down the hallway with Ken at his back when he heard the door swing open again. “Khun Kinn!” Arm whisper shouted. Kinn stopped and turned. “It’s Pete.” He ducked back inside his room without another word. Kinn exchanged a look with Ken but obediently went back into Arm’s rooms.

Arm was reading off a location into his headset when Kinn made it inside. He confirmed it then signed off. “Pete reported back, sir,” Arm reported without turning to face Kinn. His fingers flew across the keyboard. “He’s left the minor family’s house and needs an extraction. He has an imprint of Vegas’s teeth and video evidence of Vegas leaving it so that there is no doubt.”

Kinn’s eyes widened. “How did he get that?”

Arm’s fingers stilled before resuming their frantic pace. “It’s on his shoulder,” he answered. “And apparently, Vegas likes to record his…encounters.”

Kinn frowned. “Did Pete consent to this?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Get him,” Kinn ordered.

Arm pressed enter with a flourish and spun out of his chair. “On my way, sir.” 

—

Kinn was nearly back to his own quarters, having decided to wait to speak with his father until Pete returned and he had even more evidence, when the bodyguard he’d sent off with Chay earlier, Tong, stumbled into view. He clutched an obviously injured arm to his stomach and wiped at the blood dripping into his eyes with the other hand. Ken pulled his gun but Kinn didn’t wait for the man to report; he took off at a run for his rooms and burst through the front door. “Porsche!” He hadn’t felt anything wrong through the mark but a bloodied bodyguard usually only meant one thing. “Chay!” He hurriedly searched his rooms but there was no one there.

“Khun Kinn!” Ken called from the door. Kinn returned to the entrance where he found Tong leaning heavily against the doorway, Ken next to him at the ready. The doorway showed blood smears Kinn hadn’t noticed on his way in.

“Where is he?” He demanded. “Where are they?”

“I don’t know where Khun Porsche is,” Tong answered, his voice tinged in pain. “But Chay never made it into your quarters. There were two men waiting outside your door when I approached. They had barred Chay entry so I approached to inform them that he was permitted when they attacked. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was them gagging Chay and dragging him off in the opposite direction that you and Ken had departed in.”

“Who were they?”

Tong hesitated. It was only a second but it was too long. Kinn shoved him against the wall with a hand around his throat and squeezed. “Big,” he gasped. Kinn loosened his grip.

“What?”

Tong coughed. “One of the men was Big,” he confessed. “I think the other man might work for the minor family but I can’t say for sure. He was dressed in our uniform, though.”

Kinn dropped his hand. “And Porsche wasn’t there?”

Tong shook his head. “Big kept the fight quiet but Khun Porsche could have heard it.”

Kinn spun, his eyes flitting over the room a second time. This time, he wasn’t looking for his soulmate but some other kind of sign. “Ken,” he barked. “Find Tawan.” Ken responded but Kinn paid him no mind, still searching frantically. There was nothing until Kinn went back into the bedroom. And then he found the note. It was short, but it said everything it needed to.

“They took Chay.”

Kinn gripped the note so tightly it ended up crumpled in his hand. “Sir,” Ken burst into his room, out of breath. “Tawan’s gone. The guard I left on his door is dead.”

#kinnporsche #kp fic #my fic #lots of plot happened #and the end is in sight #enjoy your only hints of vegaspete bc im not writing anything else for them lol

[opiumpoisonjasminerose]

....oof I am concerned

Driving up that first night I knew I was in over my head, that I could get hurt. But then he was so kind and sweet and affectionate and wanted to pace things and... I stopped worrying

But. Now I feel it. I already am starting to think of him as my boyfriend and we haven't talked about that and... on the one hand I'm pretty sure that's what he wants. He started this whole thing (even BEFORE we got together) talking about his relationship needs. Slowed things down because he wanted to do *this* right. Keeps making references to how he hasn't connected with other people like me, making plans for trips together two months from now, etc etc.

I still don't fully understand why he keeps asking *me* why I might think we've bonded so well so quickly. I need to flip that question the next time. Or one of the times he stops us mid-any sort of touch to ask what I'm thinking or feeling. I can't tell if there's an answer he's looking for?

It's just hard because he keeps asking in moments when I'm suddenly overwhelmed with this wave of feeling SO connected or safe or in love, and it still is WAY too soon to be feeling that. And with whatever energy thing he does, maybe he feels it, I don't know, but I don't feel ready to just say 'hey I'm insane and we've BARELY been dating a month so I'm not sure if this is limerance or do I love you? Because... this? This.

Omfg holding him close when he takes his shirt off? I can't feel where I end. Also... he's *hot* hot. Not 'ooh I assumed he'd be skinny I love a skinny nerd' hot. But... like... beautiful. I don't have better language like how a gay Greek sculpture would carve a woman... still too broad, too muscular, but also delicate with lines that flow so softly at the same time. When he wouldn't take his shirt off at first, I assumed there was something to feel a little self conscious about? But. Damn.

Getting sick this weekend I know was probably for the best this needed a short pause. I needed a second of reset. I've gotten to clean some. But also I need to think about what I really want here. Because... I'm beginning to veer into a girlfriend lane with a guy who *has said* some red flag stuff.

Why have there been SO MANY "girlfriends?" What is different now? Because there's no way I have anything they didn't.

Is he monogamous now? I *know* he's jealous. How does he define monogamous for himself? Why was he so comfortable putting the blame of the Ey./Sa. on her? If his friend was making the girl he was with uncomfortable why wasn't he more protective?

Also why does he hide when he's with someone that shit is weird. That scoots up. That feels very Matthew a year in to me. 'No I love you I want to be with you but what will *insert rando* think you know'. No, it's because you want to look single.

Is it a fear of commitment? Or does he like his options?

He just seems too comfortable lying. But then his memory doesn't seem great so...

Also he is ALWAYS drinking. And I know right now that is pot-kettle but still.

And not that it's bad, but I don't enjoy hearing SO MUCH about his exes or past sexual experiences. Nor do I really want to talk about mine. I am not day-to-day jealous, but I hate having to be fake in conversations, pretending to be chill and fine like we're talking about movies while he describes his ex squirting on him. But, again, it's like when Matthew and I first got together I feel like I'll sound immature and inexperienced and uncool for not wanting to know.

I dunno. I need to get my head on right and refocus.

I get the sense some of his complaints about others tell on him a little. When he complained about people's partners being clingy, I assumed I should take note and give him space. Instead, he definitely seems like the 'I want you where I am' 'yeah I saw you last night what are you doing tonight?' type. Which I don't hate... but... I'd built up my expectations based on what he said.

Then the complaints about Da. exaggerating his title or accomplishments at work, then pointing out that a guy *might* feel like he had to if he was intimidated by a girl. With all his one detail off stories.

Just... no matter how right it feels when it feels right right now? I need to stop myself from getting too attached.

[whimsicalcotton]

Hey, I’m the anon who sent that ask a while ago about sharing the polluted marrow (tm) brainrot, and I’m currently doing my reread. I’ll share my thoughts on each chapter here since I’ve been meaning to post a review on my ao3 account anyways. Sorry if this gets a bit too long-winded/rambly or has typos!

For chapter 1, the opening line hits SO hard. Max is next to Chloe before she’s falling, this isn’t a case of her fingertips barely grazing and falling short. This is Max desperately grabbing a hold of her entire world and not being strong enough to keep her there. Which is WOW, what an analogy. Then, with her photographer’s eye, a snapshot of the moment is etched into her brain, the newest of a long list of failures. The line, “Max glares down at the waves, and prays that Chloe washes up somewhere far, far away from here” is so evocative. Even though she’ll reverse it in a few seconds, even though she won’t get to see it, even though it’ll mean less than nothing, Max still wishes Chloe gets out of Arcadia Bay in at least one timeline. 

When she starts limping back through Blackwell’s campus, the fact that no one truly reaches out to help her is really telling. This was the same school that (nearly) drove Kate to suicide and it shows. She’s bleeding from her face, is visibly injured, and no one takes action. It really speaks to how deteriorated Max’s mental state is that she acknowledges how messed up her everything is but all she focuses on is saving Rachel and everyone else. "Uhm, no the fuck you don't," from Rachel got a startled huff of amusement from me ngl because that’s such a genuine retort of equal parts confusion and rebuke. Max is so Focused on making a plan she forgets Rachel’s closest friend is Chloe and their reunion is pretty much the polar opposite of how either wanted it to go.

And the nightmare transition OH BOY. It’s small, but “You're almost more trouble than you're worth” “Almost” captures Jefferson’s sliminess perfectly. Even without knowing she has powers, Chloe still calls her Super Max, which must be a huge wake-up slap to the face. When Rachel intervenes during their hug, it gave me huge “You, Me, and Steve” vibes even though that was probably unintentional lol. Max keeping Chloe in a death grip (oof) as she pulls away is just D:. Chloe, taking in her childhood best friend, now bedraggled to an extreme degree, questioning how she ended up in such a state, barely holding it together. If she knew what Max thought, that “I hurt me. I brought this on myself. I deserve this”, I’m sure she would go on a rampage. The period between Chloe leaving the room and Joyce coming must’ve been around a few minutes, and Max manages to say two words, when in combination, paint a terrifying scene. Max agreeing to rest for the first time in subjective months only so she can “get back in fighting shape” makes me want to wring her neck like a rubber chicken because PLEASE let her sleep she deserves it :(((

POV switch to Rachel! The girl, the myth, the legend. Describing Chloe as “her big tough badass” is <3333. Y’know, I never thought about it, but hare is an appropriate animal for Max. I looked up the wiki article because I didn’t really know the difference between it and a rabbit, fun fact: “their young are able to fend for themselves shortly after birth”. If you use Max gaining powers as her metaphorical birth then yeah that tracks. Rachel only realizes how strange the whole situation is after she’s out of Max’s immense sobering gravity and back at the scene of the crime, so to speak. When she talks to Victoria and Kate, the line “She wouldn't stand a chance” about the latter leaves the unsaid as “against Jefferson/another predator looking to take advantage”. The various strangers accosting Rachel about Max’s appearance is another strike against Blackwell’s populace. Her recontextualization of her entire relationship with Jefferson as she leaves asap with rage stirring was great.

Chloe, oh Chloe. Her dream conversation with her father coming to the exact same conclusion as Rachel, that Max is a hare running away from something, is very interesting. Visuals of the storm peppered throughout are making me very Concerned. And Max writing letters filled with remorse for being a lackluster best friend is what Chloe wants! Or rather, what she wanted, but not at the cost of Max’s well being. Even after all those years apart, she still refers to Max as her best friend which ueueueueueue. The juxtaposition of Max witnessing Chloe dying and saving her while Chloe watches Max nearly bleed out and not being able to do very much is striking. Chloe coming to the misguided realization just as she was without Max, Max was without her, hurts. In contrast, her familiarity with Rachel allows her to step in when she’s doing something self-destructive. “If she tries hard enough, Chloe can almost pretend that everything is fine” which is such a mood honestly. The ending of the first chapter was such a doozy when I first read it, because I was really up at 3 am, squinting at my dim screen, bundled under a thick blanket on my bed, reenacting Zuko as he inspected a scroll wondering where the rest of the text was. Was an experience, loved it.

I’m sorry if this was way more summary than analysis, everything was awesome and makes me feel emotions in a way hard to articulate through text. I’ll try to send the ask for the next chapter faster if you want!! Thanks for writing :D

hello anon!! first off don't worry about being rambly bc i when i opened my inbox and saw this i turned into this gif of kermit

and also don't worry about being articulate bc after like twenty minutes of trying to come up with a nice proper response to this all i have is: !!!! sdfksjfhsksdfkhjk :0c ohhh my god thank you thank you <3 <3

#nova answers #Anonymous #and no rush friend!! i am unspeakably appreciative that u sent me this much 🥺🥺 #dying at the You Me & Steve comment btw. absolutely unintentional but i see exactly what u mean lmao. i should draw that sometime #and i Love getting to know what lines hurt the most #turns out lis fic is a great place to exercise my 'what's the most heart-wrenching sentence i can come up with' muscle #also i'm putting this in the tag so i can look at it whenever bc it Brings Me Joy;; thank u again anon <3 #marrow max tag

[babyjakes]

steve & bucky's girl | 3. first check-up.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

← last part | series masterlist | next part (coming soon!) →

summary | the story of waking up to find steve rogers and bucky barnes holding you hostage as their babygirl, and the very thorough check-up they gave you.

characters | dark!daddies!stucky, innocent!little!reader

warnings | ohboy. ddlg themes!!, NOncon, kidnapping/drugging, light!!medfet, restraints, crying, gagging, mocking/degredation, fingering, forced orgasms, overstim, squirting, speculum use (oof ouch owwy), bucky creaming his jeans :^)

an | ohboy B-) i feel so much fear.

When you finally awoke after countless hours of a cold, dreamless sleep, your ears started working before your eyes could flutter open. Your lids were heavy from the drugs, your mind completely in pieces as you tried to form coherent thoughts. The last thing you could remember was… you couldn’t. You couldn’t remember anything. Before you gained any feeling or control of your body, it was your hearing that started to allow you to take in information about your situation.

There were shuffling noises coming from somewhere nearby, somewhere in front of you. Quiet voices were mumbling to each other, and as your brain continued to gain clarity you could start to make out their words. “Look, her leg’s twitching. Probably gonna wake up any moment now.” The voice came from in front of you as well, from the same direction as the indistinct noises of things being moved around. It was a soft voice, deep and warm; you couldn’t identify it as one you knew.

“You sure you’re ready? I’m countin’ on you to do most of the explaining, pal,” a second voice responded with a raspy chuckle. Realizing that both of the people present with your mostly-immobilized body were male was enough to send a surge of panic through your veins, resulting in a weakened wince that the men both noticed immediately. “Oh, there she is,” the second voice crooned as your eyes shot open. Blinking at the harsh light, it took you a few moments to register what you were gazing up at. When the painful glare subsided, you were surprised to see a mobile hanging down from the ceiling above you with little baby animals attached to the ends of the wires.

In a flash, a wave of realizations washed over you. First, that you were cold - what felt like nearly freezing. Dread built up in your throat as you realized that you were barely clothed, with only a cropped mesh blouse covering your chest and a matching pair of see-through panties covering your most intimate parts between your legs. Your legs… that was another matter in itself; they were spread open wide in a pair of stirrups with thick straps running over your shins, preventing you from moving even a fraction of an inch. Trembling in horror, you realized that your legs weren’t the only things being restrained. More straps ran across your upper-thighs, stomach, arms, and upper-chest. Jolting against them, you let out a frightened whimper. Tears built up in your eyes as you realized you were gagged with a pacifier, the rubber nub secured tightly in your mouth with a piece of duct tape running over your lips.

“Okay, time to do some explaining,” the first man said softly from his place between your legs. “Sweetheart, I know you’re frightened, but just let me tell you what’s goin’ on, okay? No need to get so worked up about it- oh, honey,” he sighed sadly as he watched the tears roll down your cheeks. Looking through your spread legs at the man, you were able to get a good glimpse of his appearance. He was undeniably handsome with an intimidatingly sturdy figure; his soft blue eyes gazed sympathetically at you as he brushed back a wave of his dirty blonde hair.

“Shhh, doll, it’s okay,” the second man cooed from his position off to your right. Jerking your head to look over at him, you saw that he was also not lacking in looks whatsoever, his deep brown eyes looking you over with worry from behind his long brunette locks. Looking back and forth between the men several times as panic bubbled in your throat, you tried to take in some of the room around you as well. It was what looked to be… a nursery. Light blue paint coated the walls, decorated with swirly clouds of hand-painted white. The strange table you were restrained on was backed up against a window, with the rest of the room in full view (so long as you could keep your neck strained up to see it.) Wooden crates painted in pastels held piles of stuffed animals and toys. A crib sat off in the opposite corner, complete with another mobile hanging down over its opening. There was a large bookcase next to a rocking chair, a little teddy set atop the padded seat with a bow on its ear. Bringing your eyes back to meet the blonde man’s in front of you, you glared at him through your tears.

“I know you’re confused; let me help you,” he said smoothly. Not seeing any other option, you remained quiet, waiting for him to continue. “Let’s start with names,” he suggested. “I’m Steve. That’s Bucky,” he said with a nod to the man on your right. “But you won’t be addressing us using our names, ever. Guess that’s rule number one.”

“We’re both ‘Daddy’ to you, babydoll,” Bucky informed you. Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach at his words. It was in that moment that all the cloudiness in your brain finally cleared away; it all made sense as soon as he said the simple word. You were being held against your will by a pair of sick perverts who wanted nothing more than to use you for your body and innocence. They had everything set up; it looked like they must’ve spent quite some time preparing for you. And now they had you.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” Steve hummed softly, rubbing your knee in hopes of comforting you. You stiffened at his touch, causing his frown to grow. “I know this is all overwhelming now, but I promise it’ll get better. You’ll get to know us and the way we run things here. Everything’s gonna be okay, doll.”

“We just wanna help you,” Bucky added from your side. “You’re our precious little girl, wanna make sure you’re nice and taken care of.” Your eyes stung with tears at the man’s inappropriately soothing words. All you could figure was that he was sick - they were both sick, sick beyond repair.

“Now, sweetie,” Steve continued as he rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white button-down shirt. “Since this is all new for you, and since Buck and I have a lot of things we’d like to try with you, we just wanna give you a good once-over to get to know your body.”

“We’ll go over more rules and some other things later,” Bucky told you, “but for right now we’re just gonna give you a little check-up, that alright, doll? Just wanna make sure everything’s alright with our little angel.” Reaching his large hand over, he rubbed against your stomach, causing you to cringe back from his cold touch.

“We’ve got you strapped in tight, just for safety, honey,” Steve informed you as he pulled down the surgical lamp above his head and switched it on, the harsh light causing your eyes to water. As the realization set in that they really intended on playing some twisted version of doctor with you, you began to struggle against your restraints and whimper into your gag, but it was no use.

“Hey, hey, none of that,” Bucky crooned as he continued rubbing small circles on the side of your belly.

“Nothing’s gonna hurt, sweetheart,” Steve followed suit, the false sincerity in his voice only bringing more tears to your eyes. “We won’t ever hurt you, baby. We might have to discipline you sometimes, but it’ll only be because we love you. We’re gonna take good care of you, I promise. Buck, you wanna start up there and we’ll work our way down?” he suggested.

Taking his cue from Steve, Bucky nodded, his soft brown eyes locking with yours as he explained, “Okay, doll. The first thing we wanna do is take a look under here.” His hand trailed from your side to brush against one of your tits through the skimpy blouse, causing you to lurch against your restraints in fear. “I know, bub, I know you’re scared, but it’s gotta be done,” he said with a frown, reaching over to grab a pair of blue exam gloves before snapping them each onto his hands. “Okay, pumpkin. Let’s get you unbuttoned,” he mused, returning to you and beginning to undo the buttons that ran down the front of your top. You whimpered pathetically at his actions but in the end there was nothing you could do; before long, he had completely undone the row, allowing the fabric to fall to the sides as your breasts were revealed to the men’s hungry gazes.

“Oh my,” Steve murmured from his place in front of you, leaning forward to get a better look. Bucky grinned from above you as he gazed down on your bare cleavage, your nipples quickly hardening from the chill of the room.

“Very healthy looking,” the brown-haired man commented as he cupped one in each hand, beginning to massage the tender flesh with his muscular hands. You whined heatedly with embarrassment, only seeming to please the men further. “They’re the perfect size, too. Healthy looking skin, seems like she’s responsive even though she’s trying not to be.” Your cheeks burned at his comment, tears flooding your eyes once more as he brought his hands up to begin brushing his fingers over your nipples. “Very sensitive,” Bucky degraded.

“I’ll say,” Steve agreed, almost sounding mesmerized by your body’s involuntary response to Bucky’s stimulation. Noticing your tears, he soothed, “Aww, it’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay if it feels good. No need to be embarrassed.” His words did the opposite of reassure you.

Bucky’s fingers wrapped around one of your sensitive buds in a pinch, earning a strained cry muffled by the pacifier as your back tried to arch up against the straps holding you down. “You wanna get started down there, Stevie? I’ll keep working things up here as you go.”

Steve nodded, grabbing his own pair of gloves from a separate tray and putting them on before bringing his gaze back to the space between your legs. Spit bubbled up in your throat as you cried helplessly, mortified by the idea of the vile man examining your most intimate parts. “Now sweetie,” he started, his tone almost mocking in manner. “We’re just gonna take a look at your special parts down here and make sure everything is healthy and working as it should. There’s no need to fuss.” As he concluded his sentence, he picked up a pair of scissors, tucking the blade under your panties and snipping in a few places until they fell away uselessly to the floor. You sobbed in humiliation as your bare sex was exposed to the man who was now smiling sickly down at the sight before him. The cold air hitting your skin sent shivers running down your spine; you whined out angrily as you realized they had removed every strand of hair from your privates while you had been out of it.

“Such a beautiful little pussy,” Steve hummed as he continued running his hungry eyes over your sex. “I can tell she’s tight just by looking at her. Definitely a virgin,” he estimated, his guess being quickly confirmed by your panicked whimpering and squirming. “That’s okay, honey. We’ll take everything slow. Wanna get you nice and ready for us,” he assured you as he brought his gloved hands up to land on either side of your folds, gently spreading them open and cooing, “Now, let’s have a look here… oh my,” he marveled at your glistening opening. “She’s even getting a little wet for us, Buck.”

“Is that so?” the other man asked, amused from his position above you. Working both of your nipples with his skilled fingers, he added, “Not surprising. Poor little thing can’t help but respond to the stimulation.”

“Let’s see here,” Steve hummed in concentration, dipping his thumb into your small pool of arousal before dragging the pad up to find your clit. You jerked at the sensation, causing the man’s grin to grow. “Oh, right there. That’s the spot,” he breathed with a smile. “Such a perfect little clit, s’just barely peaking out from under its hood,” he cooed, rubbing small circles over the nub as your body began to fill with heat. “Yeah, that feel good, sweetheart?” he mocked as your muscles tightened. “It’s okay, I know it does. Let’s see what happens if we keep on rubbing it, hmm?”

“You ever cum before, dollface?” Bucky asked darkly as he continued his work on your sore nipples, the combination of his and Steve’s ministrations sending blood rushing to your core as you struggled to focus on his words. “Doesn’t seem like it. Don’t worry, baby. You’re gonna love it.”

A warm, desperate feeling began to form in the pit of your stomach as they continued, your tears and gagged protests growing worse and worse as the pressure grew. “Oh, sweet girl,” Steve crooned at your tears, “I know, it’s so sensitive, isn’t it? You’re doin’ such a good job for us, doll. Such a brave little girl.” Placing his other hand just above your nub, he tugged back gently on the skin, allowing the pad of his thumb to rub directly over the tiny button as he continued in small circles, steadily increasing his pace. “That’s it, right there, sweetheart,” he soothed, “just gotta keep rubbing and rubbing ‘til-”

“I think she’s getting close,” Bucky cut him off as your legs began to twitch, a foreign neediness appearing deep in your gut as Steve’s thumb rub-rub-rubbed over your swollen bundle of nerves. Choking on a sob through the pacifier, your eyes grew wide as both the men smiled in anticipation.

“That’s it, come on, sweetheart. Cum for your daddies,” Steve encouraged. Straining against the restraints, you had no choice but to obey him, a defeated whimper rising through your throat as your orgasm surged. “There it is, good girl,” you heard the man praise as your toes curled painfully from the high.

“So good for us,” Bucky hummed in agreement, pinching down on your nipples as you cried out weakly. “Poor little thing, cumming from Daddy rubbing her clit alone.”

As the waves of overwhelming pleasure began to settle, you collapsed against the table, fuzziness washing over you as you struggled to catch your breath. Both men’s hands came to a stop on your exhausted body, causing you to let out a sigh of relief. “See, now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Steve cooed lightly as he began clanking around more tools on his tray, which you couldn’t see from where you were slumped. “Now, usually we would get this nice and lubed up for you,” his smooth voice prattled as the sound of a wrapper being removed could be heard, “but after such an intense orgasm, I think we’ll be just fine slipping it in dry.” Your wary eyes traveled back to the man between your legs, widening in fright as they landed on the plastic speculum in his hand.

As your tears quickly returned, Bucky resumed a gentle rubbing on both of your aching nipples, soothing, “Shhhh, doll. You’re alright, Stevie’ll go nice and slow, make sure nothing hurts.”

Feeling the blonde’s hand return to spread open your dripping folds, you let out a sob. “I know, baby. Nobody likes this part, but we’ll try to make it quick,” he promised as he pressed the closed instrument up against your opening, extracting a pitiful whine from your quaking body as he slowly forced the plastic in. “Goood,” he hummed as he went, pausing once the tool was in place. “Alright, sweetie. I’m gonna open you up now and take a look. Nothing’s gonna hurt,” he assured you again as he rotated the handle before squeezing down, spreading you open from the inside. You gagged on your spit at the terrible feeling, a mixture of both pain and sinful pleasure.

“Oh, look at that,” Steve murmured, gazing in wonder over the sight of your soft pink insides. Stepping over to look as well, Bucky’s eyes widened to a similar size as Steve’s as the men both drooled over your still throbbing cunt. You let out a whimper of discomfort, which soon proved to be a mistake when Steve decided, “It’s okay, sweet girl. Here, let me help ease the tension down there.” Using two long fingers, he collected the wetness dripping down from the bottom of the speculum, dragging it back up and rolling it over your swollen clit.

“Wanna see her cum just like this,” Bucky all but groaned, eyes locked on your spongey insides as they contracted at Steve’s stimulation. “All spread open and helpless, wanna see her clamp down on it.”

“Think you can give Bucky what he wants” Steve hummed as his fingers continued against your burning nub. Before long, an all-too-familiar sense of desperation came rising up through your legs as you once again found yourself cumming against Steve’s simple strokes.

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed, stroking himself through his pants at the sight of you cumming against your will.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” Steve smiled as you sobbed into the pacifier, jerking violently against the straps as your orgasm finally subsided. “Everything’s looking good in there; I think we only have one more thing to check. Buck?”

“Okay, princess. One last thing we gotta look at,” the brunette mumbled as he crouched down beside Steve as the blonde closed and removed the speculum, leaving your pussy a dripping mess as the plastic was discarded in the bin below. Bringing his gloved hand up to your soaking cunt, Bucky pressed two fingers up against your opening, earning a terrified whine as you writhed against the restraints. “Gonna stretch you open with my fingers here, make sure everything’s okay inside. You gonna be a good girl and take Daddy’s fingers?” All you could do was sob inconsolably as his two thick digits pushed into your aching heat, squishing and squelching in a humiliating manner as he began pumping in and out of you roughly. “Fuck. So fuckin’ tight,” he grunted, his other hand coming down to clutch his erection.

“Doin’ so good, takin’ Buck’s fingers so well,” Steve praised, adding his own latex-covered hand into the mix by stealing some of your wetness and returning to his new favorite little button, rubbing in quick, tight circles.

You cried out hoarsely as Bucky found your g-spot, ramming his fingers relentlessly against the soft tissue while panting, “Fuck, that’s right. Can’t do anything but lie there and take it, drooling and crying all over herself like the dumb little baby she is. Look at that. Fuck.”

“Go on, sweetheart,” Steve cooed, sensing your impending orgasm as your legs shook against the stirrups. “Cum on Bucky’s fingers, that’s it, almost there-”

You let out a gutted cry as your third orgasm hit you, squirting out all over the two evil men who stood eagerly awaiting your release. “Shit. Fuck. Just like that,” Bucky groaned, unable to hold back as he came right there in his boxers.

“There you go, good girl, such a good girl for your daddies,” Steve sang over your mangled sobs as your body spasmed uncontrollably for what seemed like minutes before finally bottoming out and falling limp against the table. In the blur of the aftermath of your climax, you felt Bucky pulling out of you, Steve’s fingers finally leaving your swollen clit that was now painful to the touch. “Did so well, so, so well,” the blonde man continued to hum praises as he directed Bucky away to get cleaned up while pulling out a package of baby wipes.

“Now let’s get you all cleaned up, sweetpea,” Steve said with a loving smile, though you could barely see it through your red eyes, almost swollen shut from all your tears.

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#eun's writing #s&bg #stucky #stucky smut #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #stucky x little!reader #daddy!steve rogers #daddy!bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!stucky #stucky fanfiction #stucky series #stucky au #s&bg: first check up

[aetheternity]

Draken, Chifuyu, Mitsuya, the Kawata twins and Kazutora in:

When they see you with your ex.

Disclaimer: E/N means Ex's name. The ex changes gender for each one to be more exclusive I'm sorry if it feels confusing. Kazutora's has mild angst but otherwise this is really sfw.

🌟 Draken

☆ He'd kinda crashed Mikey and Emma's day out. You'd told him you had something to do this weekend so what else was he supposed to do with his free time? The three of them had stopped to eat on the outdoor patio at a nice restaurant and while Emma and Mikey chatted away about something school related. Draken sat quietly sipping his tea.

☆ You'd been kinda weird when he'd asked why the two of you couldn't hang out today. You didn't even tell him what it was you were doing instead. And you always told him literally everything about your life. Sometimes unprompted.

• "Hey, isn't that Name?" Emma's voice suddenly caught his attention.

• "Who's the guy?" Mikey questioned in between bites of his food.

☆ Draken's head shot in the direction Emma had pointed in. Sure enough there you were, talking with a guy who was about the same height as Draken. Weirdly enough Draken felt like he'd seen this guy somewhere before.

• "Is that?.. E/N?"

☆ Draken squinted still staring at the two of you talking. You didn't exactly look happy but you and your ex were standing way too close. He felt a little pang in his heart.

• "Maybe she just.." Emma cut herself off. Your arm came up to wrap around your ex's neck. Pulling him in for a hug which he just as soon reciprocated.

• "Let's just go." Draken said and Emma seemed to immediately agree. As soon as Draken and Emma squeezed back into the open doors of the restaurant Mikey hightailed it in the opposite direction.

• "Dammit Mikey!"

• "Mikey!" Emma called but it was definitely too late for that.

☆ Mikey ran up behind you tapping your shoulder as Emma and Draken made their way down to the scene that was now forming.

• "Are you cheating on Ken chin?" Mikey questioned with zero hesitation. His face stern and his shoulders bared.

• "Mikey.." You said

• "I would've preferred to do this later." Draken grit. Though Mikey didn't even spare him a glance.

• "This is.. your new boyfriend right?" E/N asked

• "Name." Emma began "I know you wouldn't cheat on Draken.."

☆ You sighed putting some space between Mikey who looked two seconds away from punching someone and your ex whose confusion seemed to grow the longer this went on.

• "I'm not, I would never.." You sighed before continuing on. "He's dating my friend now and since we had some bad blood between us.. I figured I should try to get along with him since he's staying in my life. But I'm so sorry Ken Ken, I should've told you yesterday when you asked."

☆ Mikey stepped to the side as you held out your hand for Draken to take. He wasted no time pulling you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead.

• "Don't ever do this again."

• "Go out with my ex without explaining myself? Or get caught going out with my ex without explaining myself?"

• "All of it." Mikey interjected, hands placed in his pocket but his normal smile was starting to reappear.

• "Go home you two. I'm going to spend the rest of the afternoon with these two."

• "Oh? Is it because you're worried something will happen?" You asked Draken laced your finger tips slipping your hand into his pocket.

• "I was never worried, I just wanted to spend time with you." He explained

☆ Definitely should've just invited him in the first place because within a couple hours your ex and Draken have become better friends than the two of you were supposed to be.

🌟 Chifuyu

☆ Him and Takemichi decided to spend the afternoon in Chifuyu's favorite manga shop since sitting at home had become tiresome.

☆ Takemichi had organized a small pile of books around his body like a nest while Chifuyu just searched the aisles aimlessly. He didn't have a book in mind before coming here so he figured he'd pick one out from his favorite section once they got there.

• "Hey Chifuyu?" Takemichi looked up as Chifuyu flipped through one book while he held another in his hand.

• "I can't buy both of these. Takemichi which one do you think is better?"

• "Isn't that Name?" Takemichi pointed over the stack of books on his left sure enough just outside the aisle was you with a girl chatting away.

• "Who's the girl Name's talking with?" Takemichi asked looking up at Chifuyu, though Chifuyu had already ducked his way behind the bookshelf peering out of the aisle at the current scenario.

• "What the hell are you doing?" He asked coming over.

• "That's Name's ex."

• Takemichi fell in line next to Chifuyu peering over his head, "I didn't know Name dated girls too.."

• "Yeah.. it's not a big deal.." Chifuyu said as the two of you giggled about something a couple feet away.

• "If it's not a big deal why are we hiding?"

• "Shh!" Chifuyu ducked back as you and your ex walked a little ways away. "Come on let's follow them."

• "Why don't we just go talk to them?" Takemichi followed reluctantly.

• "I don't want Name to think I came here because I was stalking-"

☆ Just as Chifuyu had made it to the next aisle he tripped over a snag in the carpet causing an oblivious Takemichi to bump into him. A loud oof from both of them alerting you and your ex of their presence.

• "Chi?" You called annndd now you were coming over. "Hey Chi, what are you doing here?"

• "This is my favorite manga place." Chifuyu answered with a grunt, stepping into the aisle.

• "I know.. I just thought you and Takemichi would be at your place."

• "What's going on?.. This is what you were busy with?" He gestured between the two of you.

• "Chi." You stepped forward and Chifuyu took one step back. "You know how me and, E/N are childhood best friends and how my grandmother is sick right now? My grandmother is basically a second mother to her so she invited me out to take my mind and her's off things, She suggested we come in here and I said ok but it wasn't right of me to not tell you, I'm sorry baby."

☆ Chifuyu looked between you and your ex his eyes slowly beginning to soften.

• "I'm not mad love. It was just weird you don't normally do underhanded things like this." He pulled you into his chest for a hug and you wrapped your arms around his waist.

• "You should come with us." E/N said pointing to Chifuyu and Takemichi. "Name won't stop talking about how wonderful you are as a boyfriend anyway."

☆ A bright pink flutters over both you and Chifuyu's cheeks as Takemichi snickers behind you both.

• "Next time you can bring Hina and we can make this into an outing." Chifuyu said, poking Takemichi in his side with his elbow before wrapping his arm around your midsection.

☆ You guys probably end up staying in the store for a couple more hours honestly because if there's anything you and Chifuyu have in common it's your love for manga.

🌟 Mitsuya

☆ He'd been running errands for his mother all morning so by the time he reached the supermarket he was completely exhausted. He pushed his shopping cart through the aisles with a long sigh, checking off items as he went.

☆ He rounded the last corner glad that his day was nearly over and already thinking about what he was going to prepare for dinner when the sound of your voice caught his attention.

☆ His first assumption was that he was so tired he was imagining it but the airy ring of your laugh soon validated his suspicions. You'd told him you were hanging out with friends today after all.

☆ He grabbed the last thing on his list deciding to go say hi. He wheeled the cart directly into the next aisle walking up as you and a person he didn't recognize were having a chat with an elderly woman.

• "You two are so cute together." The woman gestured with a small smile.

• "Oh.. no we're exes and friends." E/N explained

• "Aw I'm sorry things didn't work out for you two." The woman nodded

☆ You opened your mouth to respond but Mitsuya's warm gaze caught your attention first.

• "Suya, hey!" You greeted, walking over to greet your boyfriend with a small hug.

• "That's the actual boyfriend." Your ex explained to the woman.

• "This is the friend you told me about yesterday?" Mitsuya asked looking at your ex with a blank expression.

☆ The tension in the aisle could be sliced with a knife and the lady from before quickly walked away to another side of the store.

• "We are just friends now I promise. There's nothing going on between us and they're having a party tonight that's why we're here." You gestured to your ex who awkwardly waved back. "I was going to invite you later so that you could sneak out when Luna and Mana are asleep."

• Mitsuya nodded his expression softening as he reached up to cup your cheek, "I wish you had just explained that earlier, next time just tell me I won't be angry."

• "I will, I promise." You gave him a quick peck which he reciprocated. "I'm going to head with Suya but I'll see you at the party later?" You asked turning to your ex.

• "Yeah, I'll see you then." They replied as they left.

☆ And yeah sure Mitsuya said he was cool with it but you two ended up skipping the party and after dinner you both stayed in bed all night.. (Do with that what you will. 🙃)

🌟 Nahoya/Smiley

☆ You'd only been dating Nahoya for a month and everyday you two met up at the same place after school.

☆ Sometimes (like today) he'd grab Souya/Angry and head out to meet you. Today the three of you were just supposed to grab a quick bite to eat before heading to the Toman meeting.

☆ The second the two of them had stopped their bikes Souya pointed you out where you were holding a box and talking to some stranger.

• "Who's that guy?" Nahoya's grin tightened as he watched the way the guy yapped away while you just silently listened.

• "He looks like somebody." Souya pondered for a second before his gaze fell on his brother. "I recognize his face he was in some picture on Name's wall."

☆ Nahoya didn't wait another second to storm over to the situation Souya trotting along behind with his teeth grit.

• "What the hell is this?" Nahoya grunted though his smile never wavered. The indent of anger extremely noticeable on his forehead.

• "Hoya, this is E/N he-"

• "E/N as in your ex?" Souya chimed up before you could finish.

• "You invited your ex here when you knew I was coming? What kind of shit are you pulling here Name?"

☆ His smile began to dip at the edges but it was obvious he was trying to keep up his natural facade. His fists clenching at his side, book bag carefully slipped into Souya's arms behind him.

• "I just needed my stuff back, I promise." You tried to explain, shaking the box in your possession for Nahoya to see.

• "I didn't mean to intrude on your-"

• "You shut the fuck up!"

• "Hoya!"

• "So you thought you should invite him on our date? Are you trying to piss me off?"

• You stomped your foot exasperation slowly starting to take over in your face and tone. "Hoya, I didn't invite him! I told him I was here and he's gonna be on vacation for three weeks but I needed my camera back." You hold up the camera that you'd fished from the box, Desperation thick in your voice. "So he decided to drop my stuff off with me and you just happened to get here before he could leave." You rest your fingertips on the bridge of your nose. Glad for the silence that soon arises.

• "I should go." Your ex whispers doing a little scoot around Nahoya who still hadn't completely cooled off.

• "Hey, stop it." Nahoya grips your chin pulling your shaky form closer to himself. "You should've just asked me to get your shit for you."

• You muster a little giggle, sniffling and wiping your face with the back of your hand. "You would've kicked his ass then brought me my stuff."

• "He would've deserved it."

☆ You pull Nahoya closer though he's still a little hesitant to return your affection.

• "Let me make it up to you please? You and Souya." You turn to Souya who's still holding both his and Nahoya's backpacks.

• "You're paying for lunch today." Nahoya replies pulling you into his side. He lowers his voice leaning into your ear as Souya walks ahead to his bike. "And if I ever see that jackass again I'll break his jaw."

🌟 Kazutora

☆ Baji and him had spent the day riding their motorcycles until they decided to take a break not too far away from the shrine where Toman meetings were always held.

☆ They soon found themselves parking their bikes and skipping stones by the riverbed.

• "So, why is it that you're hanging out with me instead of your partner today?" Baji asked as his stone plopped into the water.

• "They said they had something going on." Kazutora replied

• "If I was with someone that gorgeous I'd be willing to go with them but whatever."

• "Maybe you should have someone before you start dishing out relationship advice."

☆ Baji grinned wide throwing a soft punch which Kazutora caught with a snicker pretending to right hook him. It soon lead into a chase with Baji dodging all of Kazutora's playful jabs walking backwards and making sound effects to go along with each swipe of his fists.

☆ Baji grabbed both of Kazutora's fists pushing him back until he nearly tumbled onto his ass. His laugh unbridled in its volume.

• "Come here Kazutora I'll show you how to throw a real punch."

• "What the fuck.." Kazutora's gaze followed two people walking along the path that went just overhead.

☆ Baji's head whipped around to track Kazutora's gaze stopping on the two people walking side by side almost out of sight at this point.

• "Is that-" Kazutora was nearly gone by the time Baji had processed the words. "Hey!" He called out running to catch up but Kazutora had already sprinted to the top of the bank, jogging along to catch up to the people they'd spotted.

• "Name!" His voice boomed closing the distance scarily quick.

☆ You'd stopped dead in your tracks, turning to face the chilling look in your boyfriend's eyes as he stood before you. Baji right behind and practically out of breath.

• "Who is that?" Kazutora pointed

• "Tora.. baby don't freak out.."

☆ His earring clinked against his face as he stared into your eyes.

• "Are you leaving me now? Is that it?"

• "Tora!" You huff, putting your hands out.

• "Kazutora.." Baji called out already sensing the weight of the situation.

• "She's my ex but listen-"

• "So you are cheating on me.." Kazutora's jaw locks and when you reach out for his sleeves with pleas of his name he just slaps your arms away.

☆ When he leaves he runs for his bike. His leg anchored over the side already gripping the handle bars tightly when Baji's loud scream of his name rips through the air.

☆ He's got his bike out of park but just as he starts to drive away you dash out from nowhere and yank his handle bar.

• "Dammit Tora listen to me!!" You beg, he can clearly see the beginnings of tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you hold onto the hand still clutching his handlebars.

• "What could you possibly say? That it didn't mean anything? That you love me?!"

• "Yes! I do love you! You mean everything to me! I needed to be with E/N today because her mom went missing a couple days ago! The woman that took me in and loved me all my life is out there somewhere and no one knows anything about it so dammit Kazutora if you love me even half as much as I love you, don't leave me right now!"

☆ You latched onto his jacket letting your loud sobs fill the now quiet air.

• "You told me.. You love me.." His whispered tone barely reaches your ears as you continue to choke on your own tears.

• "I.. love you.. Tora.." You hiccuped

☆ His arms wrapped gently around your waist, face deep in the crook of your neck as you slowly began to relax.

• "I'm sorry." You felt him tremble as he held you closer than he ever had before. "I love you.." He reciprocated. "I'm here.."

🌟 Souya/Angry

☆ Souya tended to listen more than you realized. Like when you go on and on about a band you absolutely adore to the point where he stays up until almost 12 am to snag tickets for the two of you to go see them on the weekend. And this was that weekend.

☆ He'd been nearly bursting with excitement over it and now he could finally surprise you with the news after holding it in for a solid week.

☆ He parked his bike across the street from your house, reaching into his jacket pocket for the umpteenth time to check that both tickets were there. After a few more minutes of preparing, blowing into his hand to check his breath, smoothing his sweaty hands over his jacket. He rung your doorbell. The heel of his toe tapping against the floor as he waited for you to answer.

☆ When the door finally opened a person much taller than Souya answered.

• "Yup." The person pursed their lips one hand on the tool belt wrapped around their waist. For a second Souya pondered if he'd somehow rung the wrong doorbell until he looked at the number in plain view embellished on your door front.

• "Who are you?" It definitely came off more aggressive thanks to Angry's naturally violent resting face.

☆ Before the person could answer you came bounding down the stairs, pulling the door open wider.

• "Why the hell would you answer my door?" You spit at the person standing beside you as you pull your boyfriend inside, shutting the door behind him.

• "I think you mean thank you."

• "Fuck off." You tell the person who was already walking back to the kitchen.

☆ The naturally angry imprint on Souya's face seems to deepen as he makes eye contact with you.

• "I wish you had called." You sighed, tugging Souya into the living room by his jacket sleeves.

• "Who the hell is that?"

• "You remember how I said my ex is in the remodeling business.."

• "That's your ex?"

• "Yes but listen! If I work with him I can get a discount, I just want that wall taken out to open up the space a bit more." You gesture to the kitchen where your ex is currently examining the wall. "I would've told you sooner but between my friend coaxing me into doing this remodel and that drunk night with you and Nahoya it was hard to find time."

☆ Souya dipped his hands into his pockets, staring blankly into the distance. His brow furrowed deeper than normal and his foot tapped against the hardwood.

• "If you're uncomfortable with this I'll get someone else.."

• "Get someone else."

• "Wait before you answer." You scoot closer to your still ticked boyfriend and he makes eye contact with you again. "This kind of remodel normally costs way more than the bargain I'm getting with them."

☆ Souya blinked blankly at you.

• "Sou plllleeeeaaasssee, you can be here whenever they are." You gesture to the kitchen.

• "No I can't I have a job."

• "Fine.. I'll call you the entire time." He sighed with a roll of his eyes. And you rubbed both his arms with a long groan of his name. "How about this, I bring you and them to dinner. Once you see how disinterested I am you might be more for it."

• "Not worried about you, I'm worried about them." His forehead rubbed against yours and you giggled.

• "I promise I only love you."

• "Would you love me more if I got tickets to your favorite band for today?"

• "I'm never leaving you." You proclaim wrapping your arms tightly around Souya's midsection. "That's a proposal by the way we're engaged now. I don't make the rules."

• "E/N I'm engaged now!" You yell towards the kitchen.

• "I heard, congrats!" They yelled back

☆ Souya just scoffed but his cheeks bloomed into the deepest shade of red as he walked upstairs with you to your bedroom to help you pick out an outfit for the concert.

#gender netural reader #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #draken x reader #chifuyu x reader #mitsuya x reader #nahoya x reader #kazutora x reader #souya x reader #draken hcs #chifuyu hcs #mitsuya hcs #nahoya headcanons #nahoya hcs #kazutora hcs #souya hcs #souya headcanons #Kazutora when he sees you with your ex: This is all Mikey's fault

[subbykboys]

new to this | taeyong

↳ pairing : virgin!taeyong x reader

Genre ➞ pure smut oof

Warnings ➞ sub!taeyong, corruption kink, begging, mild degrading, handjob, fingering (m. receiving), public-ish(?), mild choking, running into walls

Word Count ➞ 8.3k

requested by @ninachocoo

posted ; 3.08.21

Hot. God, it was so hot. 

Then again, summer in your part of town always was. But this heat— this heat was different. It surrounded you, pulling perspiration from your pores and clinging to you persistently. It spilled down your throat, filling your lungs with every deep inhale. It robbed you of any and all of your energy, leaving you too tired to rouse yourself from where you lay on the cool tile floor of your kitchen in front of the open fridge (the absolute coldest spot you could find in your entire house). 

You didn’t cope very well in warm weather, if that wasn’t obvious. 

And, at the cost of your poor housemate’s sanity, you always found new and creative ways to cope with the excruciating rise in temperature, 

“Y/n a few of my— how many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?!” You couldn’t bring yourself to so much as flinch as the fridge door was abruptly slammed shut, only managing to pull a whining complaint from the back of your throat as your only source of cool air was ever so rudely ripped away. 

“Fuck you, Mark. It’s too fucking hot to worry about the stupid electricity bill.” You huffed, peeling your eyes open just long enough to shoot an icy glare in the direction of the scowling brunette. 

He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, lower lip jutting out. “I think you forget that it’s a combination of both of our money going into paying them, so I think that I have a right to worry about how much is coming out of my pocket because you think that laying in front of an open fridge is a good way to ‘beat the heat’.” 

“Offer me a better solution, I’m open to suggestions.” You sighed tiredly. 

He only rolled his eyes. 

“Oh! I’ve got one,” you exclaimed suddenly, clapping your hands together as a gasp of excitement flew from your lips, “How about I just strip down and walk around butt ass naked? That should do the trick! Oh… but little Mark would like that a little too much, wouldn’t he?” You offered him a taunting pout, feigning sympathy as you glanced down unabashedly towards his crotch. 

Instinctively, his hands flew to cover himself as his cheeks throbbed a devastatingly obvious shade of red, bright enough to rival even the ripest of tomatoes. “Y–you—” 

Your lips curled with an amused smirk, but it faltered at the sound of thundering laughter coming from behind your flustered housemate. Your eyes followed the sound, finding its source in a group of about five or so men crowding up the foyer. Brows lifting in mild surprise, you shifted your attention back to an even more humiliated looking Mark. 

“You brought company.” An apology hung at the tip of your tongue. You really tried to keep your pg-13 teasing to a minimum around other people, especially knowing how susceptible Mark could be to his own embarrassment. 

“Hey Mark, I thought you said your roommate was a raging asshole with the sex drive of a teenaged boy on viagra? She seems pretty cool to me! And hot.” One of the taller boys chimed, a massive dopey grin plastered across his face. 

You turned to Mark slowly, brows raised. But he wouldn’t meet your eyes, head lowered. He wasn’t good at hiding his guilt. 

Welp. No apology for ole Marky boy today. 

“Please, allow me to properly introduce myself to our company.” Mark's eyebrows jumped all the way to his hairline as you pushed yourself off the floor and tossed an arm around his shoulder. “My name is (y/n), but I suppose Mark's asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra could work, too.” 

The look you shot him out of the corner of your eye had him shrinking in on himself, regret shining in his big brown eyes. But, you ruffled his hair, a silent reassurance that you weren’t all that torn up about the comment, especially considering it was hard to deny the layer of truth that lingered within it. 

You’d probably subjected Mark to more than his fair share of sleepless nights while you were up into the early morning giving the man (or woman) of the night the experience of a lifetime. A few scathing comments to close friends was more than understandable when looked upon in that light. Besides, you were never good at holding a grudge against your sweet, awkward, puppy-eyed housemate. 

The tall one that had spoken before chimed in eagerly, “I’m Yukhei, but my friends call me Lucas. Xuxi works, too. Or papi if you're feeling especially— ow!” Lucas yelped loudly as a hand connected to the back of a head with a sharp smack. You watched in amusement as another tall, charming looking man tugged him back, shooting him a warning glare before turning his attention to you. 

“Ignore him. He has a bad habit of forgetting his manners around attractive women. My name's Johnny, it’s great to finally meet you.” The sweet, disarming smile he offered you had any reservations melting away, and you easily returned the gesture before he proceeded with introductions. “This Haechan, Jaehyun, Doyoung, and— Taeyong?” 

Johnny pivoted around, brief confusion settling across his face before he spotted whoever he’d been looking for. Reaching behind Lucas, he grabbed someone's arm, tugging them into your line of sight. 

“And this is Taeyong!” He concluded with a grin, slapping a large hand down on the shorter boy’s shoulder. Taeyong dipped his head shyly, not meeting your eyes as he murmured a soft greeting that you were just barely able to catch. Soft tufts of dirty blonde hair fell over large brown eyes as he bowed politely, the air of meekness unmistakable. 

Oh, he’s cute. 

Your lips curled into an impish smirk. “Hi, Taeyong.” 

A faint blush darkened his cheeks and you caught a hint of a smile upturning the corners of his mouth. 

Really cute. 

Mark knew you well enough to see the gears beginning to turn in your head and coughed loudly when your stare lingered longer than necessary.

“O-kay, now that you’re all acquainted…” he stepped in swiftly, opting to intervene before you could get any wise ideas about his friend. “We have got a group project to work on and it would be extremely helpful if you’d refrain from providing any distractions. I already have a hard enough time trying to get them to focus for longer than five minutes as is.”

“Aww but I wanna hang out with your hot roommate, Mark.” Lucas whined loudly, practically throwing himself across Mark’s shoulders as the cutest pout you’ve probably ever seen fell across his lips. “She’s got a way nicer ass than any of you guys.” 

Doyoung sighed, his face screwing in second hand embarrassment for his friend’s shameless behavior. “Lucas, please.” 

“Have some dignity, man.” Haechan huffed additionally and you grinned in amusement as he grabbed the collar of Lucas’s shirt and began tugging him towards the living room. 

“Don’t worry, Mark. I’ll stay out of the way. I would hate to hinder your geek fest.” You teased, wrinkling your nose as you stepped past him. 

“Thank you, (y/n). I really— wait, Geek f– it’s a project worth thirty percent of our final grade!” 

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” You waved a dismissive hand over your shoulder, before pausing briefly. Spinning on your heels, you turned back to face 

the cute boy, who visibly jolted the moment your attention landed on him. “It was very nice meeting you, Taeyong.” 

“Y- you, too.” He stuttered sweetly and you had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach over and pinch those adorable pink cheeks. Either pair. 

With one last sultry smile, and a wink just to fuck with Mark a little, you sauntered back into your bedroom. Miraculously, you were no longer concerned with the previously unbearable heat plaguing your apartment. Now, you had something —or rather, someone— far more interesting to occupy your mind. 

Taeyong was having a difficult time focusing, which was pretty out of ordinary. He had barely gotten anything done with his assigned part of the project, less than half a page filled out with what little information he managed to collect. Luckily, none of the other guys seemed to notice, too distracted by their own inabilities to focus to take notice of his. Otherwise he would have to concoct some lie. But he wasn’t good at lying. He was a terrible liar, in fact. So he would probably just end up blurting out the truth which was you. You were the reason he couldn’t focus. You with your mischievous eyes and your pretty smile and intoxicating laugh. Mark’s asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra. 

He’d seen pictures of you before. But they didn’t do you any justice. In pictures, you were pretty. In real life, you were beautiful, charming, witty, sexy, and you winked at him. Girls don’t wink at him. Not ever. But you had. You’d winked and smiled at him and he wasn’t sure if you were just teasing him because he flustered easily or if there was a chance it meant something a little more than that. 

… he secretly hoped it meant something a little more than that. 

But he shouldn’t be thinking about you right now. He should be thinking about finishing his research. Not your eyes. Not your smile. Not your voice of the way you purred his name and those shivers rushed down his spine and he could have sworn something twitched— okay. That’s enough. He really needed to splash some water in his face, cool down a little before his mind wandered to places it definitely should not. 

“Ah— Mark?” 

The younger boy lifted his head, brows raising. “’Sup?” 

“Where’s the bathroom?” 

He perked, tipping his chin forward. “Oh, it’s to the right of the k— shit, wait. That toilet’s busted. Um, just use the one in my room. It’s at the end of the hall.” 

“Thanks,” Taeyong pushed himself up with a soft grunt, nearly tripping over Yukhei’s long legs as he maneuvered himself around the cluttered coffee table, “I’ll be right back.” 

None of the other guys took much notice of how quickly he rushed out of the room, much to Taeyong’s relief. He let out a low breath the moment he turned the corner and found himself in a vacant hallway, but that relief was short lived. 

Mark had only said that his room was at the end of the hall. But, there were two doors at the end of the hall. Meaning one of them could possibly lead to your room. And you were in your room. Which meant if he walked through the wrong door on accident… he could walk in on you. Oh god. Heat rushed into his cheeks at the mere thought of such a humiliating occurrence. For a moment, he debated turning on his heels and returning to the living room. 

But, he wasn’t ready to go back to studying just yet. He was still feeling flushed and antsy and needed another moment or two to himself. Plus… he was actually starting to need to pee a little. Damn him and his tiny bladder.

Hesitating, he gently knocked on the door on the right side of the hall then waited ten seconds. No response. Just to be extra certain, he knocked twice more before finally turning the knob. Cautiously, he peeked his head inside. The black out curtains were drawn tight so the room was dark, too dark to make out anything defining outside of the vague shape of a bed and dresser tucked into the far corner. It took a few minutes of stumbling blindly through the inky blackness, tripping over clothes and extension wires until he found what he hoped to be the bathroom door. 

Without too much of a second thought, he opened the door. 

Then he froze. 

He thought it was Mark’s room. He really did. He thought he was tripping over Mark’s clothes and Mark’s wires. Though, he probably should have noticed the light coming out from beneath the bathroom door, indicating that someone might be inside. Or maybe he did but ignored it because– because maybe Mark just left the light on. That could have happened. That totally could have happened. 

But it didn’t. 

Because it wasn’t Mark’s room. Those weren’t his clothes or his wires and he didn’t leave the light on. 

He realized this all too late of course. Because now he was staring at you. You who was wet and naked and… wet and naked. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only stare, dumbstruck, mind short circuiting as billowing steam curled around the shape of your body like an iridescent veil, beautiful skin glistening under the soft golden light. Your head was tipped back, lips slightly parted, hands soothing your slick hair out of your face as the hot water cascading down the swells of your 

breasts and over the curves of your shoulders.

It was like watching something out of a pornographic shampoo commercial. 

“Oh—” it was somewhere between a whine and gasp, strangled and broken by the time it escaped his trembling lips. It was so quiet, you shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the hiss of water. So it took him off guard when your eyes opened and flicked in his direction. 

He flinched, body jolting backwards like it intended to make a break for it, but it was like your stare locked him into place. His brain was screaming at him to do something; to move, to  turn away, close his eyes, apologize, bash his head against the freaking wall, literally anything but stand there staring at you with his mouth open like a complete idiot. But he couldn’t. 

The corner of your mouth curled, forming into a downright devilish smirk that sent hot tendrils of desire spiraling through his veins. Then you quirked a brow and it was like a burst of electricity bringing him back to life. His hands flew up from where they’d been frozen at his sides, slapping so hard over his eyes that he yelped in shock at the sting. 

“Ohmygod I- I am so sorry! I am so—” he whirled around, spewing high pitched apologies as he scrambled for the door. Only, his eyes were closed so instead of bolting out the door he face planted into the wall next to the door. “Ow!” 

Your low laughter rippled through the small bathroom and red hot embarrassment raced up his neck and into his face. He could only whimper out one finally strained apology as he clutched his throbbing nose and stumbled back into the darkness of your bedroom, slamming the door sharply behind him. 

By the time he’d managed to scramble back into the hall, Taeyong felt like he was on fire. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he was certain if he dared to look in a mirror he’d be the equivalent of a tomato. 

Humiliation gripped at his throat, squeezing painfully around his airway every time he recalled the previous events. He’d never be able to face you again. Not after that train wreck. Not ever. Groaning distraughtly, he sank against the wall, silently wishing that the floor would just swallow him up and put an end to his suffering.

But, there was something worse than the embarrassment. Something hotter and harder, throbbing shamelessly in the confines of his suddenly far too jeans. He saw you naked— wet and naked, looking like a freaking goddess beneath the stream of hot water, soap suds still clinging to your skin. He had never seen a woman like that before. Not in person, at least. And none as beautiful as you. 

Biting his lip, he squeezed his legs together, trying his best to will away his progressively hardening erection. That, of course, did not work. And it didn’t help in the slightest that every time he so much as blinked, the image of you in the shower came rushing to the forefront of his mind, still fresh and vivid and devastating. 

Oh god. There was no was no way he could go back to working on the project now. If he thought he was being unproductive before— he probably wouldn’t be able to get a single legible word written with the image of you and your body burned into the back of his eyelids. 

He was doomed. 

And he still needed to pee. 

Damnit. 

It was about nine at night when the low voices transformed into booming laughter, the walls practically vibrating under the barrage of stomping feet. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that they’d finished up on their project— either that or they mutually reached the end of their attention spans. 

Regardless, you were bored of remaining cooped up in your bedroom merely for the sake of your roommate’s econ grade and needed to stretch your legs a bit. Not to mention you were beginning to crave something greasy and unhealthy. You were almost certain the group of college boys lounging in your living room wouldn’t be opposed to some pizza, fries, and milkshakes from your favorite delivery place. 

“I don’t know about you boys but I’m starving!” You sang brightly as you all but skipped into the room. All eyes swung to you, wide and stunned as they watched you waltz over to where Mark sat in the love seat and throw yourself into his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. He grunted under your weight, lip curling in annoyance but wrapped his arms securely around your stomach nonetheless. You pretended not to notice the lingering eyes of one particular boy, meticulously curled into the farthest corner of the couch. “Anyone down to order?” 

“Ugh please!” Yukhei exclaimed, throwing his head back dramatically. “I am dying of hunger.” 

The others were eager to voice their own agreement and you turned to Mark with an expectant smile. “Rubio’s?” He asked, already reaching for his phone. 

“Read my mind.” You hummed, pinching his cheek until he hissed and swatted you away. 

It was nothing short of chaos trying to get everyone’s orders, multiple overlapping voices making it hard to discern exactly who was asking for what, but somehow Mark managed to place all of the requests with only a handful of difficulties. Well, all but one. 

“Taeyong.” 

The boy’s head jerked up so fast at the sound of his name that you were surprised you hadn’t heard something crack. Up until then he’d been sitting quietly with his knees to his chest, staring at his feet, pointedly avoiding looking in your general direction. He could only hold your gaze for a few tense seconds before his cheeks flamed and he dropped his eyes. 

“I– uh– y- yes?” He coughed, blinking hard. 

You tilted your head, offering him an innocent smile. “Is there anything you’d like to eat?” You couldn’t stop yourself from adding an unnecessarily suggestive pitch to the question, words dancing wickedly across your tongue. 

Taeyong swallowed and pulled his knees tighter to his chest. “I– I’ll just have some of the- the pizza.” The words tumbled clumsily out of his mouth and your grin only widened as he became more and more flustered under the heat of your persistent stare. 

“Perfect. Then we can share.” 

The poor boy nearly choked on air when you abruptly pushed yourself off of Mark and sauntered over to where he sat, squeezing in between him and an eager Yukhei, who was more than happy to make room for you. His entire body went rigid, brief panic shooting across his features as you made yourself comfortable. It was tight with Jaehyun, Lucas, Taeyong and now you all squished onto the couch, so you were practically flush against him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. You pretended not to notice that he was holding his breath. 

“Thirty minutes.” Mark announced, shutting off his phone and shoving it back into his pocket. 

“What should we do while we wait?” Jaehyun asked, ignoring Yukhei as he whined about how he’d be dead of starvation before the food even arrived. 

“Movie?” Haechan suggested. 

You perked. “I know a good one.” 

“No— no.” Mark cut in quickly, pointing a finger with the intention to reprimand in your direction. “Every time you pick a movie it’s either fucked up or really fucked up. So no.” 

“Don’t be a pussy, Mark.” You huffed, wrinkling your nose at him. “Just because you don’t like horror movies doesn’t mean your friends don’t.” 

“I, for one, love a good horror movie!” Yukhei remarked, a smug grin breaking across his lips as he shot a flirtatious wink in your direction. 

Haechan scoffed. “Bullshit! You couldn’t sleep alone for a week after we watched The Shining. And that wasn’t even scary!” 

“There was a tidal wave of blood.” He grumbled defensively, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumped, lower lip jutting out dramatically.

“No tidal wave of blood is this one, promise.” You snickered, snatching the remote from the cluttered coffee table and switching on the television. It only took a few minutes of browsing through Netflix before you finally located the movie you’d saved to your watch list a few weeks ago but had never gotten the chance to watch. 

Marked hopped up to flick off the lights as you pressed play, any excited or nervous murmurs coming to a halt as the opening credits rolled across the screen. Beside you, Taeyong tensed, squeezing his legs even tighter to his chest. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, not missing the nervous way he gnawed at his lower lip even in the darkness. 

“Not good with horror movies?” You hummed, nudging his knee. He flinched in surprise, eyes shooting over to meet yours before he quickly diverted his attention back to the screen. 

“No, not– not really.” He admitted weakly, clearing his throat. 

A playful smirk twirled onto your lips and you subtly leaned into him, whispering near his ear, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.” 

A fierce blush consumed his cheeks, illuminated by the soft grey light of the television. “I– I’ll be okay.” He coughed when his voice cracked and you chuckled under your breath, opting to cut the poor boy some slack… for now. 

The movie progressed with the usual eerie start before transitioning into something lighter, though the low hum of anticipation-building music never ceased. Even if at some point it became rather repetitive, you thoroughly enjoyed a good horror movie. Most of the time, they failed to meet expectations and you left feeling rather disappointed that your stomach hadn’t leapt into your throat any point throughout the film. However, every once in a while, you were pleasantly surprised. 

Now, was not one of those times. 

Boredom quickly settled over you as the plot developed, revealing itself to be almost identical to a number of horror movies you’d watched in the past. You slumped back in your seat, a subtle scowl staining your lips. But then… inspiration. Devious, unquestionably self indulgent inspiration that risked putting a certain someone in a possibly very awkward (but also very delightful) position. 

The slow slide of your eyes from the television over to the boy seated at your left revealed that not everyone found the movie to be boring and repetitive. Taeyong was practically trembling. He had both of his hands over his face, wide, uncertain eyes peeking out timidly from between his index and middle fingers. 

You had to sink your teeth into your lip in order to subdue the large grin threatening to break across your face. 

Fuck, he’s too adorable. 

Unable to resist, you allowed a curious hand to wander towards his leg. With a brush so subtle it could’ve been mistaken for a breeze, you traced a finger over the seam of his pants. But, with his senses on high alert, it wasn’t a sensation he missed. He jolted violently, head swinging in your direction. There was fear in his eyes, but it quickly melted into relief else once he realized it was you and not some demon. 

Then his eyes drifted to where your finger lingered, hovering over his clothed thigh, and the relief transformed into something else entirely. Something hot and shameful and desperate, something he tried to hide behind frantically fluttering eyelids and quivering lips. But it was unmistakable. 

You lifted your brows, a silent question swirling in your gaze. He swallowed, breath coming out in quick, shallow huffs as the unnameable emotion thickened inside of him, then he nudged his leg shyly towards you. The air you didn’t realize you were holding in your lungs rushed out in one quick exhale, a subtle smirk curling onto your lips as excitement swirled in your gut. Taeyong sucked his lower lip into his mouth as your open palm landed boldly on his lower thigh, fingers pressing gently into the clothed muscle just above his knee. 

For a few minutes, it remained there, not moving any lower or any high, simply resting on his leg and he found himself relaxing beneath your touch. The heat of your hand was a welcome –comforting, even– distraction from the horror movie that had progressed to the point in the plot where the reckless characters put themselves directly into the line of danger instead of taking the intelligent path that would help them avoid it all together. You could feel the tension returning to Taeyong’s muscles as suspense building music poured from the surround sound speakers. 

In a two sided attempt to both comfort and tease, you began gently massaging his thigh. His breath audibly hitched, gaze straying from the screen once more in favor of watching the slow, deliberate motion of your fingers squeezing around his leg. That alone was enough to set his long neglected desire to flames. It burned within him, hot and dangerous, turning his face a dark, flattering crimson. 

It was too much. He’d never been touched like this before. You weren’t even close to his crotch and he could still feel the distinctive hardening beneath the zipper of his jeans which were growing tighter and tighter with every passing moment. At this rate, he’d make a mess of himself before the movie even reached its climax. 

The mere thought of coming untouched was enough to make his head feel dizzy, a mixture of humiliation and heady lust licking at his nerves. 

He couldn’t believe he was feeling this way, in a room full of his friends no less. If one of them were to look over, even through darkness, it would be impossible to miss your hand laid across his lap or the feverish blush coating his face, illuminated by the dull light of the tv. 

Then, your hand shifted higher. It was a minute movement, couldn’t have been more than an inch or two. But it had his pulse spiking in his veins nonetheless, blood rushing downward. You gripped gently at the inside of his slim thigh, thumb tracing slow, calculated circles into the rough material of his jeans. He trembled beneath the teasing ministrations, jaw clenched to fight back the urge to moan as your curious touch wandered upwards once more. 

“Is this alright?” 

The question came unexpectedly, a sudden rush of warm breath hitting the curve of his throat. He sucked his lips into his mouth, shivering faintly at the low, rough sound of your voice, just quiet enough that none of the other men in the room could make it out. 

He offered a sharp, jerky nod, desperately heaving in deep breath through his nose. The corner of your mouth curled. 

“God you're shaking. Are you that sensitive? Or do you just get off on getting felt up in front of all your friends? How naughty.” You chuckled tauntingly, words borderline malicious. 

“I– I don’t— I’m not—” he swallowed, shaking his head frantically in denial of your words, despite the flames they ignited inside of him. 

“I think you are.” You purred, tracing your index finger lightly over his prominent bulge, eliciting a strangled moan from his trembling lips. He was fortunate enough that at the very moment the sound escaped, some ditzy bimbo began screaming her lungs out in the movie. Still, he slapped a hand over his offending lips, looking around frantically to see if anyone had heard his slip up. Luckily enough, it seemed they hadn’t. 

This was payback, he realized abruptly, this was payback for walking in on you showering. 

But even if it was— 

It felt too damn good. 

His head tipped back, hand surging to cover his burning face and stifle his whimpers as you suddenly gripped firmly at his clothed length. A low, appreciative hum thrummed through your chest as you felt him twitch, delighting in just how responsive he was to your touch. His thighs squeezed together, hips shuddering upwards as you mapped him out. 

The urge to set your teeth upon his neck was almost overwhelming, but you resisted only because it might draw some attention from the room’s other, currently oblivious, occupants. You doubted Yukhei would miss it, even if he was desperately hiding his eyes behind those astoundingly massive hands. 

But shit was it tempting. 

His pretty porcelain skin would look so good painted in varying shades of pink and red. So sweet and pure… you wanted to taint him. 

He couldn’t stop moving now, squirming and quivering in place. He was unraveling right before your eyes, and you were devouring it. What a sight… 

Warmth stirred in your belly, and you rolled your palm down. He jolted violently, then in the next second he was up on his feet. It happened so quickly that you nearly fell over, just barely catching yourself from falling into the spot he previously occupied. Yukhei shrieked in shock, throwing himself directly into Jaehyun’s lap. 

“Fuck, Taeyong! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Haechan shrilled, clutching a pillow against his chest. Instead of responding, Taeyong jerked forward, the movement sharp and robotic, like his body wasn’t quite caught up to his brain. 

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asked, squinting at him through the darkness. “And why do you look so—” 

“B- B- Bathroom!” Taeyong squeaked out abruptly. You could only watch with wide eyes and gaping lips as he proceeded to run out of the living room like his ass was on fire. 

“Movie must’ve freaked him out.” Johnny muttered. 

“It’s not even that bad.” Yukhei scoffed in a voice too high pitched for his words to sound believable, grunting when Jaehyun shoved him off of his lap. Noisy banter was quick ensue. Noisy and distracting enough for you to make a quick and silent escape without catching any of the other boys’ attention. 

“Taeyong?” You called softly, worry churning in your gut that you overstepped or upset him. “Tae, I’m sorry if I—” you gasped, words cutting off in your throat as a hand found your wrist and you were quickly tugged around the corner and into the unlit hallway. 

The motion was so unexpected you ended up tripping over your own feet, having to slam a hand against the wall to steady yourself. But it was only when you felt a rush of quick, warm breath against your face that you realized the position you’d gotten yourself into. Taeyong was standing in front of you, face flushed a feverish shade of red, faint perspiration glistening on his skin, and he was standing with his spine flush against the wall, effectively caged in by your body. And he was looking at you. 

Really looking at you. 

With the kind of eyes that had something tightening deliciously in the pit of your stomach, chills of excitement ricocheting through your veins. 

“Tae?” His name was less than a breath on your lips, laced with an unspoken question. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, fluttering gaze dancing across your face. 

“I almost…” he swallowed, shivering voice tapering off as he became overwhelmed by the proximity. He could smell your shampoo, a subtle, smoky-vanilla kind of scent that made his head feel dizzy. “I almost c- came.” 

The corner of your mouth swirled, both amused and charmed by the way he whispered the word, tone so innocent and shy that the filthy meaning behind it almost became misconstrued in your head. 

“Do you want to come, Taeyong?” You asked quietly, jutting a knee forward to press between his thighs. He gasped, trembling lips silently caressing the shape of your name as his hands shot forward, clutching desperately onto the sides of your shirt. A shy nod was all he could muster, the words feeling far too dirty to say aloud. But you weren’t satisfied. 

“Say it.” You murmured, nose brushing against his. His breath hitched at the command, warmth flushing through his veins beneath the staggering heat of your dark, hooded gaze. “If you want it, say it. If you don’t, tell me now.” 

“I want it!” He said quickly, only to flush and shrink in on himself, taken aback by his own outburst. Licking his lips, he repeated himself in a much softer voice, “I– I want it.” 

You let out a low hum, curving a gentle hand around his jaw. “Can I kiss you?” 

A shock ran through his body, his wide eyes snapping down to trace to soft lines of your mouth. “Yes.” He breathed, suddenly desperate for a taste of your lips. You didn’t deny him. 

The first brush of your lips against his is light, delicate… teasing. It made his knees tremble, fierce anticipation and wild desire running rampant through him. He opened up for you like a goddamn flower in bloom, melting sweetly when you applied even the slightest bit more pressure. His mouth was soft and warm, his kiss shy. And there was something ever so endearing about the way he clutched at your top like it was the only thing keeping him upright. 

You kept the pace deliberately slow, relishing in the soft moans that fluttered from his chest as you sucked his lower lip into your mouth, gently sinking your teeth into the sensitive flesh. He was wracked by a violent full body shiver when you licked over the seam of his lip. 

God he’s adorable. 

His strong reactions made you wonder if he’d ever been kissed like this before. Or, perhaps, this was a new experience entirely. 

“Taeyong.” He whimpered when you abruptly broke away from the kiss, but you ignored it. “Are you a virgin?” 

His eyes widened, a deep red flooding his cheeks. Then, he nodded, gaze dropping to the floor as the tips of his ears darkened. 

Wicked excitement curled in your gut, heat licking at your veins at the thought of being the first to corrupt such a sweet… innocent… 

“Have you ever been touched before?” 

He shook his head, chest pressing against your with every jagged inhale he drew into his lungs. 

You dipped a hand between your bodies, trailing teasingly down his stomach. “Would you like to be touched?” Your voice had dropped at least an octave, a low, rasping whisper that nearly made him keen. 

“Yes.” A devious grin settled across your lips at the quickness of his reply. Didn’t even need to think that one over, huh? 

You slid your hand over his crotch, feeling his hips buck uncontrollably when you squeezed. “Just looking at you,” you began, toying with his zipper, “I never would’ve guessed what a little slut you are.” 

“I- I’m not a slut.” He whimpered, digging his fingers into your waist. 

“Aren’t you, though?” You popped the button of his jeans. “I mean, take a good look at yourself, Yongie; letting yourself get felt up and teased by your best friend’s roommate while they’re just in the next room over. Seems pretty slutty to me.” 

Taeyong couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped his chest at the degrading word, his cock twitching within the confines of his boxers. Slipping a finger beneath the elastic, you tugged it away from his skin, letting out a playful coo when his weeping pink tip peeked out. The blush on his face intensified tenfold, both of his hands dropping down instinctively to cover himself. But you were faster, snatching his wrists and pinning them against the wall on either side of his head. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Shivering, he offered a compliant nod. 

“Good boy.” 

He barely had time to form a reaction to the praise before he felt you around him, stroking and caressing. The responding moan that burst from his lips was loud— too loud. You were quick to cover his gaping mouth, successfully muffling the series of succeeding gasps and whimpers. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” you clicked your tongue, watching the way his eyes fluttered and rolled as you tightened your grip around his cock, “you wouldn’t want your hyungs to find out what a little slut you’re being, now would you? Mark was so kind, inviting you into his home… How do you think he’d feel if he were to see you taking advantage of his hospitality, getting your pretty little cock played with by his roommate? How shameless...” 

Taeyong whimpered, and you felt the gentle press of his lips against your palm, followed by a meek flick of his tongue. He was looking at you now, really looking at you, with the kind of pathetic, wanting eyes that never failed to make your skin burn in excitement. You wondered if you could make him cry, overwhelm him with pleasure to the point where he couldn’t keep his emotions at bay. The desire to ruin him was almost unbearable. 

Swirling your thumb over his tip, you slotted a leg between his, pressing up against him from underneath. He nearly keened at the pressure, hips rolling greedily over your thigh, simultaneously pumping his cock into your closed fist. Heaven, this must be heaven. Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to succumb to his desires so readily, with such… enthusiasm. But this Taeyong surprised you at every turn. You’d thought he’d be shy, reserved, hesitant to give in, but here he was, riding your thigh and fucking your hand like his life depended on it, his muffled moans pulsing beneath your palm. 

It’d be a flat out lie to say you weren’t beyond turned on. 

There was a slick warmth building between your thighs, soaking into the fabric of your underwear, and tight knots in your stomach, threatening to burst at any given moment. The knowledge that less than thirty feet away, your roommate and all his friends were gathered and one stray moan from the crumbling man before you could give away all the filthy things you were doing to him stroked the lustful flames blazing through your blood. One glimpse into those hooded, glassy brown eyes told you he was suffering from a similar burn. 

“Turn around.” You demanded, somewhat breathless as you tore your hands off of him. A low whimper escaped past trembling lips at the loss of stimulation, a shiver rippling down his spine as his hard, abandoned cock swung through empty air. Regardless, he was quick to comply, spinning himself around and pressing his palms flat against the wall. You hummed a praise, pleased with his eager compliance, rewarding him with your touch. He gasped, forced to sink his teeth into his lip to stifle his whimpers as your hands slipped over his body: one returning to stroke his dick while the other pushed beneath the material of his top, venturing up to his chest where your fingers set to toying with his sensitive nipples. 

“(y/n)—” he moaned your name desperately, rocking his body back against yours as overwhelming pleasure pulsed through his veins. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” you chuckled darkly, splaying a steadying palm across his hips as they began grinding back into yours, “you sound like you're about to burst.” 

He moaned, shuddering when you caressed his sensitive tip, and an idea struck you. 

“Can you do something for me, Tae?” You asked, voice a low, rasping against the shell of his ear. “Can you suck?” 

Any short lived confusion dissipated from his mind when he felt your fingers nudging at the soft flesh of his lips. A deep blush flooded into his cheeks, but his mouth opened nonetheless, shyly taking your digits inside. 

“There you go…” you purred, feeling his tongue lick delicately at the pads of your middle and ring finger. He sucked, and you lowered your head to press slow, encouraging kisses laced with whispered praises to the juncture of his throat. You felt the soft vibrations of his muffled moans quivering through your knuckles and against your lips. He was shaking, the stimulation to his cock causing violent tremors to wrack his body. He wasn’t far off from release, you could tell as much by the way he was twitching and the slow increase in volume of his sounds. 

But you weren’t finished yet. 

Not by a long shot. 

You pulled your fingers from his mouth, the suction of his lips giving with a lewd, wet pop. A filthy sound coming from such innocent lips. 

Leaning forward, you nipped gently at the shell of his red tinted ear, hand releasing his dick in favor of venturing beneath the hem of his pants. You heard his breath hitched and offered quietly, “Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

Taeyong nodded in understanding, but offered no resistance as you pushed the thick denim down over the soft curve of his ass. His shoulders jumped, a gasp shooting from his lips when you slid a saliva soaked finger between his cheeks, coming to the abrupt realization of what your intentions were. 

“O– oh—” 

“Is this alright?” 

He swallowed, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “I– I’ve never…” 

You soothed a hand down the front of his thigh, “it’s okay if you don’t want to.” 

There was no judgement in your tone, rather a gentleness to the reassurance that put his buzzing nerves at ease. “That’s not it,” he shook his head, gnawing at the corner of his lip as a soft pink crept across his cheeks, “j– just…” 

“Just?” 

Taeyong drew in a deep, trembling breath. Your furrowed brows shot to your hairline, heat twisting in your gut as he suddenly bent himself over, sticking his ass out, practically fucking presenting himself to you. “B- be gentle…” he whispered shyly, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. 

Steam would surely start coming out of your nose if your temperature rose any further. This is fucking ridiculous. How was it possible for a man to be so cute yet so sexy all at once? This couldn’t be good for your health… 

Smirking deviously, you settled a palm between his shoulder blades, pressing down ever so slightly and watching as he delicately arched his spine. “I’m always gentle.” 

A hiccuping moan rushed from his chest at the first careful press of your finger, his brows furrowing deeply as his muscles tightened in response to the foreign stretch. 

“Relax, sweetheart.” You reminded lightly, settling soothing kisses across his shoulder. He drew in a series of deep breaths, allowing himself to adjust to the sensation of having something inside of him while melting into the tender caress of your cool lips across his feverish skin. You felt the slow dissipation of tension, felt the way he melted beneath you. “There you go…” you cooed, easing into him until your knuckle before allowing him a few moments to adjust. 

He was panting, forehead thudding softly against the wall as his hips trembled, a strange but not unpleasant feeling sparking to life inside of him. 

“Oh…” it was a barely audible sound, soft and breathless of shuddering lips. But you didn’t miss it, didn’t miss the way his shoulders drooped, his walls tight relaxing ever so faintly around the intruding digit. The corner of your mouth curled upwards in a salacious smirk, and you curled your finger experimentally. 

His reaction was instantaneous, a moan of surprise entwined with unexpected pleasure rushing from his flush throat. He glanced back at you from over his shoulder, eyes wide and trembling, hazy with an emotion you immediately recognized as pure, unfiltered lust. Your grin widened, almost triumphant as you whispered, “feel that?” 

He nodded rapidly, a gasp of breath wracking his chest. “Yes,” his hands were curling into fists where they were braced against the plaster wall. 

“Wanna feel it again?” 

The sound he let out was a combination of several things, keening and desperate for the sensation he’d never before experienced. “Please. Please.” 

It was impossible to say anything but yes when he begged like that. 

You rewarded him by stretching him out around a second finger, his knees nearly giving out when you thrust them in as deep as they would go. He was an absolute mess, forced to slap a quivering hand over his gaping mouth when his teeth proved insufficient at keeping his sounds in. You were enjoying yourself perhaps a little too much, enjoying watching him slowly crumble, enjoying watching his innocence shatter into tiny irreparable pieces on the floor beside glistening drops of precum. He was just too irresistible… 

“You’re about to come, aren’t you?” He was nodding before you even finished the question, muffled moans and sobs escaping through his fingers as he fucked himself back onto yours. You curve a hand around the shape of his jaw, tugging his head back at an angle that surely causes a strain in his neck, and slot your lips into his. Shoving your tongue down his throat proves a far more efficient means of keeping him quiet. 

But when you curled your fingers inside of him, subsequently stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves, even your mouth wasn’t enough to stifle the shriek of pleasure that burst from his throat. You were hoping the screams you heard emulating from the other room were enough to drown it out. 

“Keep your voice down.” You all but snarled, curling a hand around his throat. 

“I- I can’t— oh god, it feels so g- good.” He babbled, voice strained from the sheer effort of trying to keep himself from crying out in bliss. “I’m g- gonna come— I’m gonna c- come—” the sound of him choking on his words, gasping for breath around the added resistance of your restricting hold was even hotter than you imagined it would be. 

“Gone on, sweetheart. Let me see you make a mess of yourself.” You kissed the shell of his ear, deciding then to have mercy and offer his pathetic, weeping cock a helping hand. He was finished the moment your fingers grazed his tip, struck with an orgasm so powerful it had his knees buckling beneath the weight of his quivering body. 

His jaw when slack, unleashing every pent up sound he’d managed to keep bottled up thus far. They came rushing out of him too quickly to stop, not that you made much of an effort. You were enjoying the way he was moaning your name like it was his saving grace far too much to care whether or not the other boys were hearing. In fact, the thought of them hearing their sweet, innocent Taeyong whimpering like a bitch in heat, moaning your name, gave you an unexpected rush of delight. 

You didn’t stop fucking your fingers into his tight little hole until you were certain you’d milked him for all he was worth, until he was reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess against your chest, barely able to keep himself upright. 

“Oh my g- god.” He murmured shakily, head falling back to rest on your shoulder. 

A low chuckle slid from your lips as you gently released his spent cock, simultaneously pulling out of him. He winced faintly, whining weakly at the unpleasant emptiness that ensued. 

“That felt pretty good didn’t it?” You teased. 

He bit his lip, humming airily as he melted into your hold. 

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Taeyong?” Your words danced over the curve of his throat, flooding his senses with the fluttering implication. Blushing, he nodded, a shy bob of his head that caused the sweat soaked fringes of his bangs to fall over his eyes, clinging delicately to his pretty eyelashes. “Words?” 

“I—” he swallowed, gaze flitting as his face reddened further, “I’m a g- good boy.” 

You mouth curled deviously. Holding your come covered hand up to his panting mouth, you whispered against the shell of his ear, “good boys clean up their mess.” 

His breath hitched, wide eyes jumping over to meet yours. You held his gaze boldly, cocking an expectant brow. Then, ever so lightly, his tongue dipped out from between red bitten lips, kitten licking his come from your fingertips. You could’ve come right then and there, watching him shyly lap his own release from your hand. Honestly you would’ve been happy to stay like that all night, his tongue tracing the lines of your palm, caressing your knuckles… 

But then the doorbell rang, and someone cleared their throat in the other room. 

“Uh… foods here.” 

Taeyong leapt away from you with a gasp, flushing deeply as his hands flew to tuck himself back into his jeans. 

“D- do you think they—” his voice cracked and he coughed as crimson crept up his neck. 

You smirked, not in the least bit ashamed. 

“Oh, definitely.”

A/N; well i dropped off the face of the earth, sorry about that loves. but i think you’ll be happy to know that i have a number of wip sitting in drafts, should i tease the banners? 

#taeyong #lee taeyong #nct taeyong #taeyong smut #taeyong oneshot #taeyong fanfic #taeyong imagine #taeyong scenario #sub!taeyong #sub!nct #sub!idol #dom!reader #nct smut #nct imagine #nct scenario #sub taeyong #sub nct #taeyong x reader #kpop smut #sub!kpop #nct 127 smut #nct 127

[titanicsimp]

Rising star

Pairing: Enji Todoroki x Female!Reader

Genres: Smut

Warnings: Sexual content including; vaginal and anal sex, creampies, degrading talk, general rough sex, manhandling, name calling, slight voyeurism, thigh riding.

Summary: You have been rising through the pro hero ranks like a rocket, and you can’t help but tease the new number one about it.

A/N: I’m a Enji fucker and I’m proud! 🗣

“And now, the pro hero ranked as number four this year is...”

“Ironheart!”

You could barely believe it as you jumped up from your seat. You made it into the top five!

You waved at the crowd, a big smile on your face as you joined the others on stage. The bright lights and camera flashes were a little overwhelming, but you could get used to it.

God did you feel good. You could take on the world in that moment, basking in the cheers of your fans. Last year you had been ranked twentieth, so this leap was huge.

As the announcer went back to announcing the list, you peaked over at the current number one hero. Endeavor was standing stone faced as always, but you caught him glancing at you from the side.

You smirked. You could practically smell the resentment from here. How thrilling, you would have to pay the flame hero a visit later.

-

Getting into Endeavor’s VIP room at the event had been a doozy. The guard had been too starstruck, only asking you to give him an autograph. You had cringed at the picture he had made you sign. It was one from the shoot the hero agency made you do, which had been done to market on your sex appeal. But you had pushed aside your agitation and walked right into Endeavor’s room.

The space they gave him is excessive really. The room is extremely spacious even though it’s equipted with two full sized couches, a long coffee table, and a bar with barstools and all.

Endeavor is sitting on the couch that faces the door, busy signing pictures of himself which he’ll be giving out later.

It takes only a second for him to notice you, and when he does he immediately puts on his flames. You chuckle under you breath. Really, who is he keeping the appearance up for?

“Long time no see, Endeavor.” You purr as you stride over to him.

He looks annoyed, so nothing new. “Get out.”

You scoff. “Not even a congratulations? I think I’m rising through the ranks faster than you ever have.”

You notice his eyebrow twitch at your comment. He’s so predictable.

“Number four is still a long way from number one.”

You touch his knee, stroking your hand up his leg gingerly. “Yet I’m standing so close to it.”

He regards you calculatingly with those blue eyes of his. “What do you want?”

You pull back your hand with a bright smile. “Well, I thought we could get to know each other better. Us being colleagues... or perhaps rivals, as some may call it.”

Endeavor crosses his arms. “I doubt anyone would regard us as rivals. You’re too far behind me.”

“Hhmm, you say that but I saw that little glance when we were up on the stage. Seems I’ve been on your mind, Endeavor.” You tell him.

You walk around the couch and go to stand behind him. Most people would back up from his flames, but you had nothing to worry about. The metal wristbands you wear start shifting under the influence of your quirk, quickly ungulfing your arms and hands so the metal fits around them like a glove.

You put your arms over Endeavor’s shoulders without care. He grunts disapprovingly, but does nothing to stop it.

“Your flames feel slightly hotter than last time, good job!” You giggle.

He sighs your name, not your hero name, but your real name. “Stop wasting my time.”

His flames die down and it seems like he really is done playing with you. You retract the metal around you back to look like simple wristbands.

You jump over the couch and sit down next to him, giving him sad eyes. “Who thought a flame hero could be so cold?”

“Especially after our little bathroom adventure last year...”

You feel Enji stiffen beside you. “Or do you do that with all upcoming heroes?”

You throw your legs over his lap, grinning at him. Yeah, that’s what you thought, he hasn’t forgotten.

Though he tries to keep his face straight, you can see it starting to crack. “You still don’t know what’s good for you.”

“I felt pretty good last time.” You quip back, and he finally snaps.

Enji throws your legs off of his lap and grabs your face, his big hand engulfing your chin and cheeks. “You need to be put in your place.”

You bat your eyelashes at him. “Why don’t you help me with that, number one?”

His free hand forces your legs open and cups your core through your herosuit. You both groan when his thick fingers rub over your slit, pushing the tight fabric and your panties against it.

“How do you even fight in this thing.” Enji says disapprovingly.

You roll your eyes. It’s not like you are the only hero in this room with a skin tight suit, and he seems to be enjoying it well enough.

A loud ripping sounds throughout the room and you gasp in shock at the hole he has created in your suit, exposing your panties.

You try to move to stop him before he can ruin that fabric as well, but within the seconds it takes you to react it’s too late. “Bastard!”

Enji chuckles. “Can’t afford to replace them?”

He knows damn well you can. You might not be ultra rich like him, but your hero career sure has payed off.

Sliding his fingers through your wetness testingly, he gives you a mocking grin. You buck up into his touch without embarrassment, he’s doing exactly what you want after all.

Enji’s grabs you and drags you onto his lap without a word. When you go to grind against his bulge, he stops you. He corrects you to sit on one of his thighs, giving you a pointed look.

You smirk at him. “How dirty of you, Enji.”

“Shut up and grind.” He growls in response.

Happily obliging, you sway your hips, dragging your wetness across his thigh. The fabric of his suit is a bit rough, but it only adds to the friction.

Enji brings his hand to your throat, squeezing it lightly as you ride his thigh. You smile at him, softly moaning under your breath.

“Look at you, getting off on rubbing yourself against me like a bitch in heat.” He says with a condescending tone, but his body tells a different story.

You can see the large tent in his pants, making his excitement quite obvious.

A whimper leaves your mouth when his fingers squeeze tighter and a rush of wetness slicks your thighs.

Enji’s gaze turns darker with lust the longer he watches you slide yourself up and down his thigh. Getting an idea, you lean forward and lick across the length of his neck, causing him to shiver under you.

Maintaining a tight grip on your neck, he moves you off of him and then throws you onto the coffee table in front of the couch.

A oof leaves your mouth as you hit the wood, the slam having slightly taken your breath. When Enji looms over you, you shoot him a grin. Would’ve been a real smacker if your skin wasn’t infused with minuscule metal pieces.

The corners of his mouth turn upwards at seeing your reaction. Being able to throw you around without consequence turns him on to no end.

Enji flips you over, propping your ass up. You grab onto the end of the table. If it will be anything like last time, you’ll need something to hold onto.

You bite your lip when he drags his cock through your wetness. God, it’s your favorite part of him without a doubt.

“Are you ready?” Enji asks from behind you, but as you open your mouth to answer, he slams his cock all the way inside of you in a swift thrust.

You scream loudly at the feeling of his thick length stretching you out. It stings a bit, but in all the ways you like.

His big hands grab onto your ass as he starts fucking into you, groaning loudly.

His thrusts are so hard and his pace changes constantly, making you grab onto the table so hard your fingers turn white.

“A slut like you will never outrank me.” Enji growls, his grip on you tightening.

You mewl at his statement. Him talking down to you only makes your walls clench around his cock.

He lifts one hand off of your ass, only to bring it down in a hard slap. Noises and cries escape your lips without stopping as he spanks your ass and continues to ram him himself into you.

“That useless guard is still outside, I wonder if he’s hearing you cry out for my cock.” He pants out.

“I bet he’s enjoying it.” You get interrupted multiple times by Enji’s thrusts, but you get your sentence out eventually.

“Ah Endeavor!” You scream out extra loudly on purpose.

You feel his cock twitch inside you. “Giving him a show?”

You giggle breathlessly. “Come now, don’t be jealous.”

With a rip, Enji tears your suit up further, exposing your asshole as well. You hear him spit on his hand before he presses one finger into your ass. Your back arches at the new sensation and your cunt twitches in pleasure.

“Scream then.” He commands, slowing his pace just slightly so he can finger your ass.

As soon as he feels you relax, he adds a second, and your eyes tear up at the fullness. You start feeling so hot, and you have no doubt that it’s radiating from Enji.

When he rubs his fingers against your wall where he feels his cock, you cum suddenly. Your vision goes blank for a second as your orgasm washes over you, your legs shaking violently.

With a loud groan, Enji follows suit and empties himself inside of your cunt. His pace doesn’t slow down for quite a bit, fucking his cum into you.

When he’s finished, he pulls out of you suddenly, letting his cum drip out onto his cock. He fists his length, lubing it up with your mixed juices.

You can sense what’s coming next, Enji’s fingers still in your ass.

“Tell him what I’m about to do.” He tells you.

It takes you a moment to even remember the guard, but when you do you smirk. Seems like it gets Enji’s fire going, so why not.

“Please Endeavor, fuck my ass!” You yell out.

He removes his fingers and presses the head of his cock against your tight hole. “I’m going to have you walking around with cum dripping from your holes like the dirty slut you are.”

With that promise, he presses forward into you. He goes slower when entering your ass, but you still struggle to keep up.

When fully seated inside you, he gives your ass a loud slap, causing you to yelp out. As soon as he starts thrusting, you both know that neither of you is going to last long.

Enji’s fingers find your clit, rubbing and pinching at it as he fucks into you.

By this point you’re a sweating, drooling mess, and when you approach another orgasm, you whine desperately. “Fuck Endeavor, ruin me!”

His low chuckle makes a shiver run over your spine. “As you wish.”

He starts slamming himself into you, not holding back in the slightest. Your chest pushes against the table aggressively as he fucks you into it.

You cry out his name as with a last rub at your clit, you cum again. The table is a blessing as your legs give out, keeping your body up.

Enji uses your body till he’s cumming again as well. Your body already feels so hot, and his cum filling you ass too doesn’t help. You whimper and flex your sore fingers from grabbing on when he pulls out.

Your ass, cunt and thighs are absolutely drenched in his cum, his thick loads still leaking out of you.

Too tired to move for now, you watch as Enji grabs a marker from the table. He scribbles something onto your asscheek, giving it a final slap afterwards.

He comes into vision after he has adjusted his suit, his figure showing no trace of what the two of you just did.

“Let’s do this again, hero.” He tells you as he throws the marker at you, the last word clearly mocking.

Later, when you go to clean up, you spot what he wrote in the mirror. You smirk as you look at the phone number that he wrote onto your asscheek. Snapping a quick picture of your cum covered ass, you send it to his number with the message ‘I knew you’d warm up to me ♥️’.

#enji x reader #endeavor x reader #enji todoroki #smut #endeavor smut #bnha #Enji smut #enji todoroki x reader #mha #lemon #fanfic #bnha x reader #imagines #endeavor x reader smut #bnha endeavor #bnha enji #bnha smut #mha smut #Enji x reader smut #todoroki enji

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

(Because - as has rightfully been pointed out - the angel needs his cuddles, too.)

--

“Crowley?”

“Nnnnh?” The sprawl of limbs dozing on the sofa shifted, resolving into six feet of lazy demon.

“Can you help me with this?” Rising up on his toes, Aziraphale gestured with the book in his hand. “I can’t quite reach the top shelf.”

“Don’t you have a stool or something?”

“It’s on the other side of the shop, and you’re right here.”

With another groan, Crowley rolled off the sofa in a strange, almost fluid motion, and sauntered across the room. “Where does it go?”

“Just there.” He pointed again as Crowley took the book, glaring at the top shelf. It was, in reality, slightly too high for either of them to reach.

Crowley stretched, standing on his own toes, one hand resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder for balance, until he could just barely get the corner of the book into the gap between two others, and shoved it hard into place.

“There. If that broke the thing, s’not my fault.”

“No, I wouldn’t dream of…thank you, my dear.”

“Mmmh.” Crowley gave Aziraphale a half-grin before wandering back towards his favorite resting spot.

Behind his back, Aziraphale pressed his own hand to where his shoulder still burned with lovely heat.

--

“Crowley? I think I could use a hand again.”

“Are you serious?” he groaned. “You going to tell me you can’t reach your own mugs now?”

Aziraphale glanced at the cupboard again. It did look too low for that, didn’t it? “Of course not. I…I think I should reorganize my wine. I need you to hold some bottles for me.”

“Why?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Some of those wine bottles haven’t moved in over a century. Why would you need to do this now?”

“That…” He felt a flash of embarrassment, quickly turned it into indignation. “That’s hardly any of your concern, now is it? You come to my shop, day after day, just to lounge about. This isn’t one of your – your ancient temples, you can’t just laze around while the human worshippers fan you and feed you peeled grapes…”

A shadow fell across Aziraphale, and he turned to see Crowley, leaning against the doorway to the little kitchen, lopsided grin on his face. “That’s a very elaborate fantasy you’ve concocted.”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together and turned back to the wine, grabbing a few bottles at random. “It’s not a – a fantasy. I know what you used to get up to in Egypt. And Greece. And a dozen other snake-worshipping cultures.”

“I was hardly—oof.” He grabbed the bottle of red that Aziraphale had all but thrust into his stomach, long fingers dragging across the back of Aziraphale’s hand, leaving behind a trail of fireworks.

“Good. That.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, staring at a row of champagne bottles. “That should go in the, er, Italian section. Tuscany.”

“You going to arrange them geographically now?”

“Of course! Region, then year, then type of grape. Perfectly logical. These are from, um, Piedmont.” He held out two more bottles.

Shrugging, Crowley put the first on the table and reached out. Aziraphale stood perfectly still, so that he couldn’t miss Crowley’s smallest finger brushing against his thumb in passing.

--

“Now what are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m – I’m sweeping under the sofa. Kindly move those – those pipe cleaners you call legs.”

“You never sweep.”

“That’s entirely untrue.” Aziraphale reached as far as his arm would go, vaguely sliding the brush from side to side. Shuffled a little to the left, until his shoulder bumped up against Crowley’s calf, fire bursting through him again.

“Sorry,” Crowley mumbled, and in an instant the legs were gone, neatly folded up beneath him.

Blast. Aziraphale glanced up with feigned concern. “You better not be putting your boots on…ah.” Crowley wiggled his toes, covered in a black snakeskin sock that was a little too skin-tight and convincing. With a grin and a shrug, the demon curled in on himself again, neatly out of the way, and turned his attention back to his mobile phone.

“Right. Well. Good.” Aziraphale ducked his head, and scrubbed hard at the floor.

--

“Crowley, help me move this chair.”

“Crowley, hold this ladder while I climb.”

“Crowley, hand me that cloth, I dropped it again.”

“Crowley…”

“Crowley…”

“Crowley…”

--

“Crowley, come over here, I need your hands again.”

“Are you going to pay me for all this work?”

“Nonsense. I’m exploiting you, like any good capitalist.” He pressed his hands down on the cover of the book, sharp scent of glue filling the air. “Come along, I can’t actually go over there to get you.”

Another string of garbled syllables, and once again Crowley stood at his shoulder. “What are you doing this time?”

“I’m rebinding this book. The glue sets overnight, so I need you to hold it while I get something heavy to put on top.”

“Um.” A long pause. “I can get something heavy for you.”

“No, I need you to hold this.”

Another pause, this time the silence tinged with suspicion. “Don’t you have a – a press or something?”

Aziraphale kept his eyes firmly forward, away from Crowley. “Will you just…stop asking foolish questions and do as you’re asked?”

Two hands slapped down onto the cover, perfectly between Aziraphale’s without touching either of them. He could feel the warmth of Crowley’s shoulder, so tantalizingly close.

“Well?” Crowley finally prompted. “Aren’t you going to move?”

“No.” He swallowed. “Not when you’re holding it wrong. Look. You need to be here, in front of the book.”

“Yeah. Where you’re standing.” Aziraphale could feel the look Crowley shot through his glasses.

“Oh, fine.” Removing his hands, Aziraphale stepped back and to the side, letting the demon take his place. “No, not like that! Honestly, my dear fellow, you need to pay more attention.”

“Wha—?”

Before he could think better of it, Aziraphale’s hands shot out, carefully encircling Crowley’s waist, just above the hips. “Center yourself,” he said, nudging to the left as his arms soaked in wave after wave of heat. Not enough. “And a little closer.” An infinitesimal push, enough to bring his chest almost, almost against Crowley’s back. He ached for it, that last bit of space.

Well. There was one option.

“Good. Now. Just need to position your hands correctly.”

Leaning forward, Aziraphale placed his hands on the backs of Crowley’s, pressing against his back. His feet shifted, and now his chin rested on that black-clad shoulder, and his legs bracketed Crowley’s, his arms rested against Crowley’s…

Every part of them, together.

With his eyes closed, everything else fell away, except for Crowley, his presence fluttering under Aziraphale’s skin like a second heartbeat. He drank it in, more and more, trying to fill every empty space inside himself, but it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough—

“Angel?”

In an instant, he was back in the shop, stumbling away. “Yes. That. That should…I’ll…”

Aziraphale spun and hurried away, closing his ears to the worry in Crowley’s voice.

--

“Crowley? Can you—”

“Nope.”

“I…” Aziraphale tried to muster up his indignation again, but after the bookbinding fiasco, it was impossible. “Of course. I’ll just…”

“Nope, I need your help.”

He turned, slowly, to where the long shape of his companion sprawled across the sofa, one foot over the arm, the other dangling off the side, hands folded behind his head.

“What…what do you need.”

Crowley lifted one hand and pointed to a shelf behind the sofa. “That one.”

“I…” Aziraphale moved closer, trying to see what he was pointing at. “You want a book?”

“Mmmh. Right there.”

Frowning, he took a few more steps. “Isn’t that a dictionary?”

“Nnh? No, not that one, that one.” The finger didn’t move.

“Why…why can’t you…?”

With a snort, Crowley dropped his hand, tucked it behind his head again. “Sprained my back doing all your chores. I’m out of commission. I need a book to entertain me during my long convalescence.”

“And what happened to your clever little telephone?”

“Finished it.”

“You…you finished it?”

“Yup. Browsed the whole internet. Found the end. Lousy twist in the last chapter.”

From the tilt of his head, Aziraphale could tell that Crowley’s eyes were shut, lost in the perverse joy of his silly claims. That should have made this easier, but he still hesitated as he leaned across the sofa, rested his hand on the back. His arms passed over the top of Crowley’s head by several centimeters.

“Did you mean…this one?” His fingers hovered over a likely tome.

“Hmm. Nope. Further down.”

A step to the side, knees coming close to where Crowley’s leg carelessly hung, as if it were too much work to pull it onto the sofa with the rest of him. “This one?”

“One shelf down.”

He bent even lower, until his stomach hovered, just above—

Crowley struck, fast as a serpent, his lazy sprawl suddenly a flurry of motion as arms and legs grappled Aziraphale, constricted, twisted around to slam him into the sofa cushions, to lie there with Crowley straddling his middle, hands pressing down on his shoulders.

Aziraphale’s heart fluttered so that he could hardly breathe.

“Good. Now. What do you want?”

“I…” Aziraphale shook his head. “I don’t…”

“Yes. You do.” One hand shot up and ripped his glasses off, tossing them aside, then pressed down again on the angel’s chest. Golden eyes bore into him. “Bless it, Aziraphale, all day you’ve asked me to do everything except for – whatever it is you need! Just tell me!”

“I…” He pressed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the way his skin burned, electrified, alive. “I can’t. It’s…it’s foolish. It’s too much…”

“Angel.” Softer now, so soft it could break his heart. “Nothing will ever be too much. Just ask.”

“No…”

“I can’t help you if you don’t ask.”

With an effort, Aziraphale managed to press one trembling hand against his eyes. Tried hard to steady himself. “Crowley. I…I don’t know how to explain it. I feel…cold. Empty. Alone, even with you here. Like something inside me just…died, and left me hollow…”

The weight shifted, easing off his shoulders, and when he looked, Crowley was sitting up. Further away.

“Do you…did Heaven do something to you? When you left?”

“No.” How his voice shook! “No, I – I thought that at first, but…in truth…it’s been coming on…for simply ages.” The shop grew misty, and Aziraphale closed his eyes again. “A little worse every time I – I felt my superiors’ disappointment. Every time I failed at a task. Every…every time I visited Heaven and realized…I didn’t belong.” He tried to rub his eyes again and found they were wet. “No…no this isn’t anything but…my own…inadequacy.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true! I’m not…not strong they way you are.” His hand reached out, grasping, and found Crowley’s, wrapping gently around his fingers. It surged through him again, warmth, strength, solidity. Everything Aziraphale lacked. “I can feel it in you. It’s beautiful. And I want – want to drink it in, fill myself, but I’m bottomless, I just take, and take, and it’s not enough. It will never be enough!” He pulled his hand away, ready to flee from the sofa, to hide from his shame. Ready for his only friend to pull away in disgust at his selfishness, his greed.

Instead, Crowley lowered himself, stretching his long body across Aziraphale, head tucked under his chin, hands resting on his arms. “Is this better?”

It swept through him again and again, with every beat of Crowley’s heart. Not just heat. Something that Aziraphale had been lacking, craving, for more centuries than the Earth had existed.

Love.

A sob escaped him, pitiful, even as he drank it all in, greedily, more than he ever deserved, possessive arms twisting around Crowley as if to pull him into Aziraphale’s chest.

“S’alright,” Crowley murmured, and his hand pressed against the curve of Aziraphale’s cheek, brilliant as starlight. “How’s this? Any different?”

“Yes, it’s…” There was no hope he’d ever be able to control his voice again. “It’s stronger when…ah…when we touch…directly.”

“Got it.”

And just like that, the weight on his chest vanished, leaving him empty and cold again.

Of course.

Aziraphale sat up, trying to wipe his eyes dry, humiliated by the loss of composure. “If you want to leave,” he managed, blinking them clear, “I won’t…”

Crowley stood before him, jacket and tie discarded, fingers flicking down the buttons of his black shirt.

“What on Earth are you doing?”

“You said touching directly, right? Skin to skin?”

“You…you can’t be serious.” A different sort of heat began to race into his cheeks.

“Nrg.” Crowley shrugged, rolling the shirt off his shoulders as he did. “If it helps you…”

“No, my dear – you don’t understand. I want more than – than you could ever give me. I’d – I’d drain you entirely if I could.”

“I’d like to see you try.” He pulled off the last layer, a blac vest, then bent forward, resting a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Besides. Everything I have is yours. Our side, remember?”

Aziraphale bowed his head, fists clenched in his lap. “You…can’t mean that…”

“Angel.” He felt the warm press of Crowley’s forehead against his own. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

Slowly, slowly, Aziraphale tugged at his bowtie, trying to remember how to loosen it.

--

Moonlight filtered in through the bookshop windows.

Crowley lay on the floor, Aziraphale curled up against his bare chest, arms around his shoulders, one leg hooked over his knees – clinging to him like a lifeline even in sleep. Some of the strain was finally starting to leak out of his furrowed brow, though he was still a long way from looking like himself.

The fingers of one hand ran through Aziraphale’s curls, carefully, rhythmically. Crowley had never seen the angel sleep before, but as soon as he’d started carefully scratching at his scalp, those blue eyes had begun to drift shut. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but if there was even a chance that this was helping him rest, Crowley would be damned, blessed, and cast into the void before he’d even consider stopping.

Everywhere they touched – which was just about everywhere – Crowley could feel something, an energy buzzing off Aziraphale’s skin. He’d felt it before, many times, but never this distinctly; it curled into him, whether he wanted it or not, flowing through his veins, keeping his heart beating.

“Y’know,” he whispered, slightly worried that the motion of the air would be enough to waken the angel. “You really shouldn’t have worried. Steal my strength? Ridiculous.”

Aziraphale shifted, just a little, pulling himself closer.

“I don’t have a blessed ounce of strength of my own. Or warmth. Solidity? Give me a break.”

A cloud must have moved out of the way; the moonlight suddenly grew brighter, and the pale angel seemed almost to glow in the silver light. Ethereal beauty.

“No. Whatever I’ve got, whatever’s kept me going, for thousands of years – it all comes from you.”

His angel shivered, just faintly, and Crowley quickly miracled up a thick blanket, wrapping it around both of them. Aziraphale sighed, fingers kneading and relaxing across Crowley’s skin.

“So you see, s’not a problem if you need it all. It’s already yours. Everything I have. Everything I am. Yours.”

--

Crowley was wrong for two reasons.

First, the warmth they felt hadn’t begun in Aziraphale, any more than it had in Crowley. It was a different kind of force, generated by their proximity to each other, and flowing constantly from one to the other, an eternal cycle. The strength belonged to both of them, and neither of them.

Second, of course, it would never run out. After all, love is increased – never diminished – by being shared.

#good omens fanfiction #good omens prime #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #good omens fluff #ineffable partners #crowley #aziraphale #sleepy cuddles #ineffable snuggle #emotional hurt/comfort #protective crowley #lonely aziraphale #crowley loves his angel #sneks give good hugs even in human form #this got long #my writing #tumblr fic

[hozierandco]

Henry Cavill x Reader / Lessons / SMUT

A/N: Henry has to learn how to play golf for a film but his teacher may teach him a bit more than golf. In which Henry is a clumsy cinnamon roll. Inuendos intended, sorry not sorry. SMUT: oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, teasing, cursing, cumshot. Read at your own risk.

For the sake of a film in which he would play an aristocrat, Henry had to know how to play golf. He had agreed to it though he never had one single piece of knowledge on the matter.

Him who had done life-endangering stunts was not going to abandon for golf. He had three weeks before the beginning of the set and had decided to spend his holidays at a golf resort off in Scotland where he was determined to master the skills to that sport.

Y/N had been working at the Baurheid Club for the past five summers. The rest of the year, she lived in Glasgow but since her uncle was the club's manager and since she knew all about golf, she kept on working there.

The season was about to start and she was in charge of giving private classes for top-notch clients. Her rock solid privacy was celebrated by all and she was the perfect fit to deal with bankers and members of the idle class. An actor was about to complete the list.

"Y/N, here's the list of your clients for the next week"

Three names as each client required all attention. Quality over quantity was the motto of the club on that regard. The second one rang a bell to Y/N: Henry Cavill.

"Why does that name sound familiar? We've already have him, perhaps?" Y/N asked to Olivia who was welcoming the clients in the resort and who happened to be a close friend to Y/N.

"He's an actor, you fool" she replied in a moment of rest from the wave of clients "A handsome one too, lucky you!"

Instead of rejoicing along with Olivia, Y/N just hoped he was not the megalomaniac kind and that he wouldn't be a nightmare to work with. She went on with her day, many things had to be fixed before her first classes the next day.

Henry arrived by the entrance desk where Olivia acknowledged him and welcomed her just like any other client, in spite of her shouting internally. He had packed the bare minimum so his installment was brief.

The next day, it was almost noon when he woke up so he took himself out to the cafeteria.

Y/N had finished her first class of the day with a young member of the Dutch royal family and was gaining back the main accomodatio, up to the staff's lunch room. She had not changed clothes as she was not to meet any client.

Or so she thought.

"Oh, come on now!" Y/N heard someone grunting in her back as she was about to open the door to the place where she had left her food. She turned around only to see a frustrated Henry Cavill.

"May I help you, sir?" Y/N asked.

"Yes, please!" Henry jumped on the occasion "I'm looking for the lunch room but I always end up in this corridor... It's a bloody labyrinth there", he added holding back a nervous laugh.

Henry came back from his frustration as his misery was coming to an end with Y/N's arrival and that's on his way back that he noticed just how splendid Y/N was.

"Please, let me be your guide"

"Thank you very much. By the way, I'm Henry"

"And I'm Y/N", she responded making the connection with the photograph of Henry Olivia had shown her on her phone.

Along their journey to the lunch room, the two of them made some small talk while Y/N had to keep her composure. Olivia was right, he was bloody handsome. Even more so that on any photograph. And besides, he was visibly not a douche but an angel, making her feel at ease early on in their conversation.

As they arrived by the cafeteria filled with expensive furniture, the actor accompanied his "thank yous" with an offer: "I'm all alone at the resort, I could use some company for the lunch"

It was tempting if it wasn't for the fact that Y/N and the whole staff wasn't allowed to eat with the clients.

"Oh I see..." Henry said as Y/N explained the situation "But what if it's the client's decision. Isn't the customer always right?" he completed, glad he had found this trick to make her stay.

"Well, I suppose that it's the rule, yeah..." Y/N had been upset to decline the offer but she figured that indeed, she could stay a little while. Besides, the cafeteria was big enough for her not to be seen by anyone.

"It's a yes, then?"

"Yes, it is"

"So, what do you do here anyway?" Henry asked her as he came back from the buffet.

"I'm a golf instructor"

"Well, in that case, I'll probably see you on the green"

"About that, I should probably tell you that I'm the one who's gonna take care of your lessons for as long as you stay"

"I cannot wait. Though I should apologise in advance"

Y/N quizzed him by fixing his eyes. Shit, those eyes... Don't stare, don't stare, Y/N thought.

"I'm probably the worst golf player in Britain"

***

"You want to hold it like that" Y/N informed the way to seize the putter as she placed herself behind the impressive stature she had in front of her.

She could not believe that she was giving in the cliché of being glued to get someone to play golf.

Henry had not exaggerated, he indeed was pretty bad. In fact, he lacked of coordination and Y/N had to constantly remind him of how he was supposed to swing his body.

"May I?"

"Yes!" Henry was relieved to hear that he would get more help from her as she suggested than she could grab his arms to show the move.

She took his arms by the elbows. Henry being in a polo, she could feel all of his muscles under her touch.

"There, that's right! You've got the move. Now try to hit the ball"

And Henry executed himself but failed to even graze it. He snickered and then gave in a frank laughter that Y/N echoed.

"Right, you're gonna need to spend more time with me, Mr. Cavill"

"It's all I'm dreaming of. Dinner with me tonight in the garden?"

The class ended and for Y/N, it meant the beginning of her third and last class of the day.

As it was only 4 pm, Henry joined the games room where he had a view on the green where Y/N was helping an old lady to practice.

Of course, Y/N was too busy to notice him but it didn't stop him to smile like a child at her.

He was admiring her grace and her air of benevolence when a man came to him "She's a beauty, isn't she?"

Henry nodded at the stranger who in turns carried on "It must run in the family"

As Henry took his eyes oof of Y/N to see whom he was talking to, the stranger introduced himself "I'm Max, the club's manager. Y/N's uncle"

"Oh! How do you do? I'm Henry"

Max nodded, knowing very well who his select guest was.

"Is she a great teacher to you?"

"For sure. It's just that I'm a terrible pupil"

Max laughed along with Henry "Ah, son, she'll make a great player out of you"

The dinner happened. Henry had changed into another polo paired with camel chinos.

Y/N too had changed into a strapless floral dress with brown sandals. She greeted Henry as she sat down in the grass on which Henry had displayed a basket of fruits.

They started drinking and talking as the moon rose in the sky.

"I've talked with your uncle this afternoon"

"Oh have you? He's quite something, isn't he?"

"That he is. According to him, you're the greatest teacher out there"

"And you doubt it?"

"I'll try to be as good as a lamb for you"

After dinner, Y/N suggested that they take a walk around the resort. Any way to make the night last longer was worth seizing.

Everything was calm. No one around. Under their feet, the grass was slightly wet as dew had started forming and tinting their shoes.

Y/N took off her shoes, soon followed by Henry who had not done something as spontaneous as throwing a picnic in a very long time.

With their shoes in their hands, they carried on walking on the grass as crickets were going for a symphony and more and more windows got dark afar.

"It's been ages since I hadn't spent a lovely night like that" Henry sighed with pleasure "but that being said, I should hit my bed if I want to be at the top of my performance for my strict instructor"

The two of them had gotten very close to one another "If I stay now, I'm staying the whole night" Henry commented as Y/N's lips were dangerously close to his.

"I would let you" Y/N replied.

***

Henry and Y/N had met regularly apart from the times set for the classes over the last two weeks and if Henry had barely gotten better, the two of them had grown fond of the other. They had kissed on the fourth night, but both of them were not craving for more. Henry did not wish to rush things, nor did Y/N though the tension became unbearable.

"Do you think your uncle would kick you out if you spent the night at my room tonight?" Henry ventured as the class was over, wishing that he could kiss her right there, on the green.

"I wouldn't mind being kicked out if it meant spending the night with you" Y/N answered as she put back the clubs in the trolley.

After they finished eating at their favourite spot, Henry seized Y/N's hand and together they traveld to his room.

As Henry opened the door, he preceded Y/N,cupping her face with his hands to make her follow him in the suite.

He shut the door behind her and took her in his arms, only letting go on her after having carefully laid her on the bed.

"It is my turn to teach you a lesson, baby", he purred in her ear as he had let his lips wander from her legs to her face.

He placed his body over Y/N's but suddenly he got repentant and cursed "Fuck, I came here with nothing..."

Of course, Henry had no plans of making love to his instructor when he had booked holidays at the resort and found himself caught off guard, without protection for the night.

"In my purse" Y/N told him where to look.

"You might just be the most prepared teacher ever"

"Just grab it" Y/N begged him as he was going for encores, giving another sequel of kisses to her skin.

Henry ripped the scabbard and took his apparel out of his trousers, dressing it for the occasion.

Gracious God! There was lot to look at...

Fully erect, Henry came back in bed where Y/N was trying her best not to stare at the length.

"You sure about this?" Henry inquired as he aligned himself.

"Never been more sure in my whole life"

Henry then slid his member, inch by inch to be sure that Y/N was coping with what she was given.

He was just half through when it began to hurt.

"It's alright, doll!" Henry consoled her "I'm sorry, I'll go slow, I promise"

Henry found his way out as he had an idea to ease the process. Y/N still under him, he got down on her and made a feast of the flesh flashing before his eyes.

There was no doubt: he was much better at this than with golf.

As Y/N looked down at the face that had found shelter between her legs, she noticed just how dedicate he was. He was giving it all the attention required.

His eyes were glistening by the feeble light above their head.

Henry's cock was beating a rhythm of its own, pleased at it was that Henry was able to make Y/N moan with just his tongue and fingers.

The resort was known for "its quiet nights" and "tranquil setting" but tonight, Henry was eager to go off the rails.

It did have the expected effect on Y/N since her lair had gotten damp. Henry let her come back from the mountain she had climbed before he dived inside.

This time around, the whole length got in no sooner said than done.

"You're just so gorgeous!" Henry articulated with difficulty as he was carrying his moves, putting more energy by every second that went by.

Y/N's fingers borrowed the path drawn by his torso which was dripping with sweat "You're one very good student. And a very hot one too"

Henry's heart was pounding in his chest as he lifted Y/N's legs to put them by each side of his spine. That way, he reached a new spot with the tip of his penis which made Y/N pant with his name on her lips.

"Henry!" she cried her lungs out through the dark of the night. The tranquil nights long gone.

"Come for me, doll!"

She didn't have to hear twice as she was unleashing her falls.

But Henry was insatiable. Though teased twice by the sight of Y/N coming for him, his cock was still showing no sign of weakness.

He was willing to let go of her lover to give her some rest while he would take care of himself but Y/N stopped him as he was about to take off the condom.

"I wouldn't mind a third lesson" she told him "Let's change the angle. Show me how your swing's going. As for your stamina, Mr. Cavill, it got much better"

Y/N got on all fours, spreading her legs for Henry to come up behind her. As he entered the well, Y/N stretched herself so that she in turn allowed more of Hnery to get in and out.

Henry was admiring the view as he held Y/N by her hips, pounding her.

In and out, fast at first, the sounds of his cock hitting the bottom of her cunt.

Then Henry who got tired of the the action - and who was not going to hold it back for very much longer as Y/N's moans were rushing his climax - got slow, savouring every second he had ahead of him before he would come too.

Sensing that Y/N was close to get her third orgasm as she got tight around his cock, he decided for her to come to do so as well, and hoped that it would arrive soon.

She did come, shouting and laughing as she came back.

"I don't want you to come in that. I want to see you coming for me, Henry"

Henry then quickly removed the piece of latex which was soiled with pre-cum. The sole fact of taking it off almost made him come.

Henry kneeled on the bed by the level of Y/N who was laying down and emptied himself on her stomach.

"I cannot wait for our next class" Henry said in a sigh as he rested his limbs by Y/N.

#henry cavill #imagines #henry cavill imagines #smut #oops i guess #mind that i wrote smut in the train for the sake of science #henry cavill x reader

[parkerlyn]

touching / 37 / oisein 👀

cannot wait for more chaos & softness 🥰

(remember kids, don't fall for peer pressure and terrible friends like Oisein adfsakljl) Thank you for the asks! ❤️

putting their head on the other's chest | holding hands while jumping down from somewhere together

You try to remember how the conversation went, considering where you've ended up. How did you finally agree? Did you actually finally agree? Did you get marionetted? Were you going to have to find a way to quietly murder Oisein?

They had come to you, all teeth in a terrible grin and splotchy, glowing markings flickering with excitement.

"Absolutely not."

"Please please please please-"

"Oisein, I'm not jumping down the Saor waterfall!"

They bring their hands inward like a prayer and give their best attempt at a pout and pitiful eyes. The whole charade looks much less innocent as their long, sharp nails clack together, though. "But the pool is fuller from the recent rains and Heleen won't go without Mav and Mav won't go unless I do and I need moral support. And by moral support I mean you jumping with me."

"The base is right at the edge of the hydro pillars - what if someone from Saor is out there?!"

"We'll wear our glamours!! I was already planning on it, not trying to snap one of these," they say with a nonchalant wave to an antler. "Any mortalis will just think we're a bunch of reckless assholes."

"You ARE being a reckless asshole!"

"Oh it's not even that high, and Heleen and Mav are both elementalists-"

The rest of the conversation blurs out among the dark branches above the Sanctum, and the odd image of Oisein happily skipping away.

Which would explain your current predicament.

The raucous water tumbling over the cliff's edge sprays onto your bare legs and crossed arms, icy pinpricks kissing at your elbow and shins. Thunderous sounds echo back up to the top of the cavern and into the canyon beyond where the stone rings of Saor glint like silver bracelets, delicately detailed with the reflection of thousands of windows.

More whooping and yelling comes from below - far, far below - as what looks to be a pale mortalis woman with coiling ginger hair laughs on the bank. She leans forward, lifting herself from a grassy patch, to throw a scoop of darkened water at a thin person lounging waist deep at the water's edge, the wet sheen of their deep brown skin reflecting moonlight into your eyes. Without their sheevra forms, an unconscious part of you wants to stay out of their sight. But you will yourself to remember the prickly desert flowers of Heleen's markings as she lays back down again, and the winding orchids that normally curl over Mav's shoulders as they blow raspberries in the woman's direction.

Oisein says something next to you, but when you don't respond over the rushing water, they raise their voice.

"If you kill me now, they'll know it was you! So-"

"What?"

Oisein smiles widely next to you as you turn, their disguise more familiar. Their honeyed waves of hair, currently pulled back into a tight bun, provide some comfort alongside the earthy freckles speckling their tanned skin.

Or well, it would, if they weren't the reason you were in this mess in the first place.

Remembering that, you snap your head forward again with a huff.

They laugh - nervously, you notice - and step forward towards the edge of the stone precipice, peering down below. Their bare toes curl into the rock, shoulders rising as they hold a breath. "Okay!" they almost shout over the echoing noise. "It's a little further up than I thought it was. But that's why we're doing this together, right?" The smile turns apologetic while their eyes stay fixated on the drop, but any sympathy you have has already been washed away with the falls, plummeting into the pool below.

You glare at them again, though their edges are blurred and softened by the mist surrounding them, a faint glow diffusing from the stars in the background and the weak light of their markings.

Despite your harshly set face, they turn back to you and pause, before slowly hold out their hand. Curled fingers hesitate for a moment and then unfurl, showing you their empty palm.

You press your lips into as thin of a line as you can possibly muster, determined to glare them off the edge of the waterfall without taking you down with them.

"Can't do this without you," you read from their lips more than hear, their chin lowering but eyes still held your face. The outstretched hand still waits, though you notice a fearful shiver run from their wrist and up towards their collar.

What feels like an eternity passes before you finally give a heavy sigh and uncross your arms, stepping towards Oisein. You slap your hand into theirs, the base of your thumb fitting squarely into their palm, and they wrap their fingers tightly around your hand as you both turn outward to the open air.

The moments begin to blur like the conversation that led you here. A swallow and a flare of their nostrils. Your fingers gripping tensely against their knuckles. One more furtive look to each other and an anxious song kindling in the magic leaking out from the tense leanhaun.

And suddenly, you're flying.

A burst of air pushes you clear of the cliff as you jump, a bright chord that lifts you safely away. The wind whips and streams over your arms as your stomach lurches up into your ribs, your legs cycling through the air. Sound boils and bursts through your throat in tandem with an ecstatic screech from Oisein, muted by the roar of wind and water.

Even as you hurtle nearer to the waterfall's base, the blackened pool quickly approaching, your hands still remain tightly clasped together.

And then, you're floating. Stomach rolling downward against a pillow of swirling wind, water lapping up towards your ankles, twisting upward in lazy tendrils from the surface of the pool. You look down the last dozen feet to see Mav's hands glowing in the water, Heleen's poised expertly in the air above her face. They grin just as you look to Oisein, who laughs, loud and exuberant, water droplets floating near the loose strands of hair that glide gently around their ears.

You catch a sneaky smirk exchanged between the other two sheevra before they release their magic, dropping you the last few feet to plunge into the water.

Chilled bubbles race over your body as you break the surface, taking a quick breath and slamming your eyes shut. The water rushes in around you, weaving over your neck and surrounding you in a bracing cocoon. Muffled murmuring sounds somewhere in the distance (where the waterfall ends?) and you take a chance to open your eyes against the current. Above you the water glitters darkly, scattering the image of the night sky and and reflecting a murky outline of your body back to you.

The heat in your hand finally registers again, the only source of warmth bursting over your fingers as Oisein pulls upward, more bubbles flowing over their windmilling arm and where their feet kick below. It only takes a few seconds more to feel the tug at your shoulder, before you emerge together in a tangle of limbs and gulp in a desperate breath.

While they move backwards and help pull you from the water, Oisein is already berating Mav and Heleen, who snort and giggle together a few feet away. But despite the chiding, there’s a wide grin on their face as they fall back onto their elbows and pull you up towards them, repeating quiet questions of "You okay? You alright?" You nod, cough once, and laugh despite yourself, arms wobbly from the adrenaline and knees digging into the dirt between Oisein’s legs. As more of your senses return, you notice an unwelcome lack of warmth in your palm, but immediately brush that thought away.

The blonde sheevra goes silent eventually, breathing deeply as the wet, ivory cloth of their shirt clings tightly to their chest. They lay their head back against the grass and blink their eyes, splaying their arms out wide.

Without thinking, you collapse where your arms have taken you, thumping your soaked head face first against their chest and elbows framing their hips. There’s a small 'oof' and a laugh that shakes your head when you make contact, before your head bobs with their even breathing.

A chill comes near your body, but the worst of it is held at bay as Oisein’s hands move down to your shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. When you pry your head back up there’s a smile - gentler than usual - alighting their lips. Their hands stay, rubbing warmth into your muscles and eventually resting along your upper arms.

You'd thought their breathing had settled, but you can’t help but notice the quickening pace of their heart and the way they still themself, trying to restrict the rise and fall of their lungs. They swallow, much like they did before you leaped, and you feel their legs tense against yours. Infinite seconds pass while Oisein's lips barely part, neither of you wanting to break the moment.

Which Mav happily does, whistling shrilly at your side.

Oisein scoffs and removes one of their hands to flip them off while carefully putting a little more space between your bodies, shifting awkwardly up the grassy hill. Disappointment drops rudely in your gut while they shiver noticeably again, the sudden absence of your body against theirs bringing back the full effects of the autumn night.

But in the next instant, their head turns to the side, bangs flopping unceremoniously over one of their vibrant eyes before a mischievous look twists their face.

“Wanna go again?”

#drabbles #oisein #interactive fiction #interactive novel #romance #the nameless #tnif #this got wildly out of control lmao sorry #mostly just silly descriptions and self indulgence ajdkflsaj

[dickpuncher420]

hi ambre my love for writing prompts can i get uhhhhhh fairground ferris wheel zukka

As the Fire Lord, it’s rare that Zuko finds enough time to travel, especially at this time of year. But the spirits must have been feeling especially generous lately, because this is the longest he’s ever gone without an assassination attempt, his council has been uncharacteristically agreeable, and all of his current projects are moving smoothly along, without the need for his supervision—meaning that he’s free to take some time off, for once in his life, and finally experience this Glacier Spirits Festival that Sokka has told him so much about.

Sokka and Izumi have already been down in the Southern Water Tribe for a while, ever since Izumi started suddenly bending the tea out of their cups at breakfast one day, and they’re the first ones to greet him when his airship touches down on the outskirts of town. Izumi makes a face when Sokka pulls him in for a kiss—she’s getting to that age where everything her dads does embarrasses her—but then tugs insistently at Zuko’s robes until he reaches down to pick her up.

“Oof.” Zuko groans as he settles her onto his hip. “You’re getting a bit too big for this, ‘Zumi.”

Izumi pouts at him, her golden eyes big and imploring. “But Daddy does it all the time, and he never says I’m too big.”

“Does he now?” Zuko shoots Sokka a look, and Sokka grins sheepishly and shrugs. They’re going to have a talk about that later—he’s well aware that Izumi has the both of them wrapped around her little finger, but that doesn’t mean they can’t learn to tell her no sometimes.

He sets Izumi down after placing a kiss to the top of her head, and she holds his hand and chatters excitedly the whole way back to the house. Auntie ‘Tara has been teaching her some very basic waterbending control, mostly to keep her from getting into any future accidents—even Azula didn’t start learning actual bending techniques until she was six years old.

With the festival starting tomorrow, booths and attractions have been set up all over the centre of town, and Izumi eagerly points them out as they walk past. Zuko can practically feel the tension easing out of his shoulders by the minute—he doesn’t realize how much the crown weighs him down until he’s finally free of it, and now, with it safely stored in his rooms all the way back in the Fire Nation, he feels lighter than he has in ages.

Dinner is a quiet, simple affair. Sokka nabs the stewed sea prunes that Izumi has pushed to the sides of her bowl, and laughs at the face that Zuko makes when he bites down into one by accident. Even after all these years, he’s never quite been able to get used to the taste; never had to, really, since Sokka would always steal his right out of his bowl whenever he came to visit.

They put Izumi to bed once she starts nodding off in her seat, and then spend a few more hours talking quietly, curled up together next to the hearth. Zuko heats his hands and massages Sokka’s leg without being asked—the break is old and fully healed, but Zuko knows that the cold still gets to it sometimes—and Sokka sinks back into his furs with a grateful groan.

“You’re the best husband ever, you know that?”

“Mhm,” Zuko says, smiling. “You could stand to say it more often, though.”

They’re awoken in the morning—or what passes for the morning, this close to the solstice—by Izumi, who leaps onto their bed, squealing about the festival. She barely gives them time to eat breakfast before she’s ushering them out the door, one hand clasped in each of her fathers’ hands, dragging them along as fast as her little legs will go.

Zuko catches Sokka’s eye as they walk and grins. He can’t help it—Izumi’s excitement is infectious.

She totes them along as they go from booth to booth, trying out the fried eel-squid here, admiring the beadwork of a young vendor there. At one of the game stands, Sokka wins her a stuffed sky bison plushie, which she immediately names Baby Appa—or Bappa, for short. Zuko complains that it sounds too much like Baba, and Sokka just laughs and wins him one too, if only to shut him up.

There’s something comforting about the anonymity of the festival. Here, he’s not the Fire Lord. Here, he’s just a man, enjoying the Glacier Spirits Festival with his family, just like any regular person. He’s not the only foreigner, either: in the years since the end of the war, the festival has expanded enough that people from beyond the Water Tribes have become regular visitors as well. Nobody even spares Zuko, with his pale skin and mottled scar, a second glance—especially not when his hair has been braided back like this, in a traditional Water Tribe style.

Zuko doesn’t often regret being the Fire Lord, at least not anymore. Sure, it’s tedious and tiring and stressful, but he’s always proud of his work, and there isn’t a single person in the world that he would rather have take his place.

It’s at times like this, though—with Sokka’s hand in his, and Izumi bounding ahead to marvel at the ferris wheel that towers over the rest of the town—that he wishes he could leave all the pomp and circumstance behind and just be Zuko.

Izumi waves them over, practically vibrating with excitement, and begs them for a ride on the ferris wheel. Unable to deny her anything, Zuko dutifully hands over a few copper pieces to the operator, and the next thing he knows they’re being strapped into the strange metal contraption, Izumi safely wedged between him and Sokka.

Snowflakes begin to fall as they wait for the rest of the seats to be filled. Izumi kicks her feet excitedly, eyes wide, and sticks her tongue out in an attempt to catch a few. Zuko laughs and joins her, and he’s so intent on his snowflake-catching that the sudden jolt of the ferris wheel kicking into motion catches him off guard, and he yelps and clutches at Sokka’s arm.

“Scared?” Sokka teases, and Zuko gives him a half-hearted smack.

“Are you scared, Baba?” Izumi says, adorably earnest in the way that small children are. “You can hold my hand.” She holds out a small gloved hand, and Zuko smiles at her and takes it, wondering if she can sense the way it feels like his heart is melting in his chest. He can feel people’s inner fire—surely waterbenders must be able to do something similar?

“Thank you, ‘Zumi,” he says, and she beams.

The ferris wheel creaks and groans as it carries them up, and back down, and back up again. Sokka assures them that it’s perfectly safe—he’d looked over the plans and supervised its assembly himself—and Zuko finds himself relaxing into the motion of it, chuckling at the way Izumi’s eyes go wide whenever they reach the top of its cycle.

Eventually, the ferris wheel slows and shudders to a stop—and it’s just their luck that they happen to be sitting at the very top of it when it does. Like this, they have the entire town spread out before them, with all its lights and colours and the crowds of people milling about. It makes Zuko feel strangely small, but small in that way that he likes, in the way that makes him feel like just Zuko.

And maybe it’s only temporary, but—he glances over at Sokka, at Izumi, both staring down at the world below with wonder in their eyes—he thinks he can let himself enjoy being just Zuko, just for a bit.

#zukka #atla #dickpuncherwrites #goldrushzukka #ask #hiiiiii alex beloved this got way out of hand. i hope u like it anyways #zukka dads