#// dealers choice on who you wanna toss!

[maudlxne]

❝ Excuse me - do you happen to know where I can find a map or something? This is my first time in this village and I'm a little turned around. ❞

Navigating her own - considerably smaller - village was a simple task. Having been born and raised in one of the lesser-known ninja villages scattered throughout the world. Her attire was a bit odd - wearing a miko garb rather than ninja attire.

@asparkleofmuses liked for a starter

[hazbinshusk]

21 with Blitzy, please :)

my love of domesticity went to war with my being a whore for this one lol prompt #21: dealer's choice

“Since when do you know how to cook?”

Blitzø pauses in his endeavours to locate a wooden spoon long enough to look offended. “I’m a parent, ain’t I?”

You smile, shrugging a shoulder. “Fair point.”

“Fuckin' right it’s a fair point,” he grumbles, lighting up when he finally locates the spoon in a drawer among far too many knives. He points at you with it, stabbing the air before tossing it into the bowl of pancake batter. “Better watch that mouth or I’ll let you go hungry. Questionin’ my cutinary talents…”

“It’s ‘culinary’,” you correct with a grin, and you giggle when he flips you off. You’re sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter, still dressed in your pyjamas. Loona was staying at a friend’s, and the two of you had taken full advantage of the empty apartment. The broken lamp and tangled sheets – not to mention the now half-empty bottle of lube in the shower and the aching of your thighs – a testament to that. “Besides, I thought you liked what I do with my mouth.”

A small growl rumbles through Blitzø at that, and he jabs the spoon at your chest, this time managing to drip pancake batter onto your thighs. “You wanna be a whore, or do you want breakfast? ‘Cause I’m not cookin’ twice.”

You hold up your hands in surrender despite the smile still playing on your lips. “Sorry, chef.”

He smirks, setting a frying pan on the stovetop. “Not as fun as ‘daddy’, but I could see that workin’.”

“Now, who’s a whore?” you retort, waving a hand down at the batter splattered on your bare thighs. “You got a towel or something?”

His smirk widens, and he abandons the batter bowl, taking hold of your knees and pushing them apart. “Or somethin’.”

You roll your eyes but gasp as he bends down to lick the first few droplets from your skin, his tongue swirling over the flesh. He keeps his eyes trained on yours as he moves to the other leg, sucking up a drop from your inner thigh hard enough to leave a mark behind. His teeth graze the flesh and you whimper. “Blitzø…”

He straightens, and you wrap your fingers in the neckline of his tee shirt as he leans up on his toes to kiss you, his hands planted on the counter on either side of your thighs. He tastes of sleep and uncooked pancakes and somehow already the hint of maple syrup, his tongue sliding against yours messily.

You cup his face in your hands, smooth your thumb over his scar, smile as you feel his tail wind around your ankle. When he starts fumbling with the hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss long enough to tug if off over your head, you say, “What happened to the whole ‘not cooking twice’ thing?”

“Reconsidered.” he tells you, kissing you again, and you feel something sticky drip onto your bare chest. The scent of maple syrup teases your senses. “Whore first. Breakfast later.”

You moan quietly as he slides his tongue over the swell of your breast before dipping down to suck the syrup from your nipple.

“Besides,” he tells you cockily, looking up at you from under his brows. “I can multitask.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[palbabor-writes]

Unknown.

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x puppy!girl OC

For: @kazooli​ 

Warnings: sex pollen, tw.dubcon, tw.unbalanced relationship, tw.blood/gore, unrequited feelings, puppy!reader, established OC, NSFW/18+only

Word Count: 3681

Notes: the is part of the Evil Exchange! i had a lot of fun with this concept & am so glad i got to take part! this fic does have an established OC & while she is not named, she does have physical descriptions that are not neutral.  

[ 2:15 am, Monday morning ]

He shouldn’t have taken you along. You don’t belong here. 

Your quirk isn’t equipped to deal with something like this [ or is it perfect? since all of your senses are acutely attuned to him, your lips open, tongue heavy between your teeth, drool pooling under your jaw and down your neck, your eyes gleaming with an unnatural sheen as you try to hump against his leg like a bitch in heat ] and you have little in the way of melee attacks, or a true defense. No, all you have is your pretty blonde hair, floppy ears that prick each time you hear him, and that incessantly wagging tail that sticks out from your pert little ass, like a goddamn antenna. You’re absolutely too pure for this, too fucking saccharine, and too damn nice to be here.

Fuck. This was a mistake.

[ 72 hours before the mission ]

“It’s in that old warehouse, the one by the docks.”

“Which one? The images that we have show multiple buildings.”

“The fuck do I know? You only wanted me to ask around about the place. If you wanted me to do the damn job for you, you should have said.”

Shigaraki narrows his eyes at Dabi’s hunched back, doing his best to remind himself that they’re already low on funds, on members, and they can’t afford to lose anything else. Not now, when they’re literally scraping along the bottom of the barrel, yanking out whatever dregs they can find and trying desperately to make them stick.

“Did they give you a time?”

“For the exchange? Yeah, said they’re gonna be down there around 1am.”

“And the date?”

“Date?” Dabi questions, whipping his dark head back to Shigaraki’s impassive face, arching one dark brow. 

“Yeah,” Shigaraki intones, a half concealed snarl lifting his cracked lips. “The date for when this is all going to take place. We can’t send someone down there every night, hoping it’s the correct time. They’ll be noticed.”

“Said they wanted it to be this Monday, something about shelf life. Apparently this shit is better when it’s fresh. Sells quicker, is more effective.”

“How much did they agree to hand over?”

“Fucking–look man, I didn’t grab a cup of coffee with them, or ask if they wanted to go get some lunch. I told them our terms, they agreed and gave me the location, ‘date’ and time. What did you want me to do? Paint their nails? Suck em’ off? If you’re wanting to get into the drug trade, maybe ask a few more questions yourself. Not leave them to middlemen. You act like you wanna be a leader, so fucking act like–”  

A quiet knocking breaks Dabi’s tirade and both men turn toward the closed door.

“What?” Shigaraki snaps, raising a hand to his neck, scritching his long nails against the scars that he finds. It’s a shitty habit, and he knows it gives his agitation away, but he doesn’t care. The sooner Dabi loses his temper and fucks back off to the streets, the better.

The door creaks open and your golden head pops around the corner, hair falling into the empty air as your dog like ears waggle, listening, testing the safety of the room. Your eyes shift from Dabi’s bristled form to Shigaraki and the moment they alight on his stony expression, you smile. 

“M-mister Tomura, um, the others… well, we were talking and heard Dabi shouting… uh, they… I mean… I was wondering if you’ve assigned anyone to the new mission? The one you mentioned the other day?” 

Dabi snorts and you toss his lanky frame a glare, ears flattening along the side of your head. “Yeah, I bet you wanna know who’s going with Mister Tomura. Got news for you girly, it’s prolly not gonna be you.”

Your quivering pink lips are about to form a retort when Shigaraki’s voice croaks out. “Enough. Tell the others we’ll discuss this later. Dabi, don’t you have some recruits that you’re supposed to show me?”

The flame user waves a lackadaisical hand and stands, inky head cocked toward your pouting face, letting his sharp gaze linger against your angry expression. “Soon boss. Told you already, quality takes time. Not that you know that, since all you seem to attract is freaks, like this one.”

[ 21 hours before the mission ] 

 “You’re really taking her?” Toga asks, twirling a small knife between her splayed fingers. “I mean, isn’t she kinda lacking in… experience?”

“She’s the only one who can smell out any fakes. I don’t trust these guys. They might try to offload a lower grade product to us.” Shigaraki explains, tucking the battered case of quirk destroying bullets back into his jacket pocket. In the last 24 hours things have gone from bad to worse, what with the news that Twice couldn’t replicate the serum, and the potential, permanent loss of Kurogiri. He’s not about to add double crossed by some two bit drug dealers to that list.

“You want me to give her some weapons? A knife or something? I’ve got plenty of extra. Can’t ever have too many and besides, I like her. And I know she’ll bring them back, safe and sound. She’s such an obedient girl.”

Obedient. 

That’s an apt word for you. Maybe it’s an after effect of your quirk, or the puppy-like way you act around him [ with that permanently blissed out smile and thumping tail of yours ] but your swift, unquestioning compliance always makes him think of an over eager pet. 

“She’s malleable, and that’s what I need on this mission.”

“Ah! You saying I wouldn’t be?”

“Tch. You wouldn’t even try.”

[ 7 hours before the mission ]

He’s taking you. 

It hadn’t been some kind of dream, he’d really shown up in your doorway, with his red eyes glowing in the low light, his sharp jaw tensed, and told you that you’d be accompanying him. Just you and him, together, alone, on a mission where he’d need to rely on you. Could trust you, would talk with you.  

As soon as he left, you’d flopped back against the ratty mattress that sat in the middle of your room, trembling fingers already shoving the elastic lining of your shorts down, letting you thumb a quick circle over your throbbing, distended clit. In seconds you’re leaking all over your hand, mind whirring, picturing how he’ll look as he walks beside you, listening for the bite of his voice, imagining him telling you what a good girl you are. He’ll be so pleased, so happy with you. Oh, the things he’ll say to you. 

Look at you, you did so well. 

Thank you. Thank you for coming on this with me. 

I can’t wait to take you [ bend you over and ] with me again. 

I can’t wait to [ fuck your little pussy until you’re screaming for me ] get you home safely.

You did such a good job.

I wouldn’t have [ until you’re cumming all over my cock ] been able to do it without you.

You’d make the perfect apprentice, you know?

You really [ such a greedy little bitch ] would.

You’re perfect [ look at how you’re taking me. i’m gonna fuck you stupid, you dirty slut ] and I’m happy that you’re here with me.

That I found you.

Your release builds swiftly. Making your feathery tail ripple over the tattered sheets and your ears tremble in the chilly air. You feel you’re catching alight. It’s too much, and you hate that you’re not taking your time, but you can’t hear his voice as well now. 

The memory of it is fading as Mister Tomura pads away from you, down the long hallway that leads to his room. 

You remind yourself to listen more, as your fingers pinch and twist at your shuddering clit, to memorize every detail of him. You want to see him every time you close your eyelids and be able to picture him again each morning. To wash yourself in that hazy vermillion of his eyes and the timbre of his voice. 

It’s too soon, but your toes are already curling, your back is arching, welcoming the rush of wetness that slips between your shaking thighs. You feel lightheaded, but your dulled senses does nothing to mask the giddiness that keeps bubbling its way out of your chest. 

Tomorrow. Mister Tomura is taking you with him tomorrow.

 [ Mission begins: 1 am, Monday morning ]

 “Um, Mister Tomura… do you want me to go in first? That way you can–”

“No, they know I’m coming.”

“Oooh! So there’s no need for surprise!”

“Correct.”

The dark buildings along the wharf are slowly peeking into view and Shigaraki peers over at your grinning face, his red eyes watchful under the dark hood of his jacket. You look happy, a little too happy. You’re the best choice for this mission, but he can’t shake that uneasy feeling that keeps nagging at the back of his mind. 

Eager is one thing, but you’re practically vibrating with excitement. That tail of yours won’t stop lashing back and forth and each time he sees your ears twitch and your head snap up to his, he’s reminded that you’ll need to be looked after on this. Unlike the others, you don’t have an affinity for combat or a quirk that gives you any kind of advantage in a fight. Nevertheless, you’re a member of the league and that connection affords you certain privileges. 

Unless he has no other option, he won’t abandon you.

As the two of you step toward the fifth warehouse, you lean closer to him, your shoulder brushing against his obsidian jacket, a quiet huff of air falling from your parted lips. “This is it,” you tell him, mismatched eyes blinking up at his impassive expression. 

When he says good, you almost snatch at his arm, and you try to hold back your panting breaths, to not let them slip out, but you know he can see, he can tell. He always can. You feel his sharp gaze passing over you, and sense his blistering annoyance when you subconsciously lean into him a little harder, rubbing your clothed shoulder against his.

“You ready Mister Tomura?” The question leaves you on a whisper and you bite your lower lip into your mouth, wanting him to say yes, wanting him to tell you what a good job you’ve done, finding the location like this. That he’s ready for anything as long as you’re by his side.

“Step back,” he murmurs, lifting three fingers to the door as he shoves it open, the metal wheels screeching into the static quiet of the night.

[ 1:45 am, Monday morning ]

“What’s wrong with her?” Shigaraki demands, releasing the throat of the leader of this de facto gang, sending him crashing across the grimy floor of the warehouse.

“I– koff, koff, I d-don’t… fucking know! She just… shit… sniffed the stuff and started shaking.”

“What’s in it? I’ll give you five seconds.” There’s no time for this and if you’re having some kind of reaction to the drugs, he’s honestly not sure what he’s going to do with you. A villain hospital is out of the question and sensei’s doctor can’t be located. Shit.

“It’s… it’s got some kinda quirk enhancing property… I don’t think that–”

“Five,” Shigaraki begins, stepping over the gristled remains of the others, his red shoes bright against the pools of darkening blood.

“What!? You can’t be serious! Look, man, I’m not the one who manufactured them! I–”

“Four.”

“Oh my God, oh m-my…. look, he said something about increasing the instincts. Making the user less–”

“Three.”

“Libido! It increases libido! I think… no! No! Please! Don’t you–Keep the fuck away from me, you freak! Don’t–I’m trying to tell you! Come on! Please! I don’t–”

Shigaraki lets the man struggle, watching his fruitless scramble across the floor; hands flapping against the gritty concrete with loud smacks, and feet slipping. He looks like a fish on a line. 

“None of those things let me know what’s in the drug,” he informs his prey, blood slicked shoes stepping down, trapping the man under his heel, halting his frantic motions.

“That’s not… not… Y-you said you’d give me until five?”

“Did I?” Shigaraki asks, a wide grin cracking over his face, one hand lowering, fingers splayed, reaching. “Looks like I lied.”

The man’s shrieks quickly turn into deep throated garbles as the decay of Shigaraki’s quirk races up his body, reducing him to a mass of shattered bones, hollowed teeth and gushing ichor. Pity, Shigaraki thinks, wiping his bloodied hand against his dark pants and twisting back to your trembling form. 

You’re whimpering, your voice catching as you try to gulp down a few breaths and your tail is flat, its usual golden hanging lusterless in the darkness. When he steps closer, your head lifts and he can see the hopeful prick of your floppy ears. Your cheeks and the line of your neck are flushed, creating a burst of dusty pink that blends perfectly with your flaxen hair. You look like a doll, tiny and shivering in the cold, your puppy-like features wilted under the weight of the drug that’s coursing through your bloodstream.

“M-Mister T-T-T-omura,” you whine, one hand lifting, straining for him. “I-I feel… I feel… hot. It… it’s too warm. I think I’m… I don’t know if… if I–”

“Can you walk?” He cuts right to the chase, not liking that shimmering line of desperation that’s laced within your words. You look like you’re about to fall to pieces, but he needs more information. He can’t help you, he reasons, pushing down that inner voice that’s screaming for him to step away from your curled body, if he doesn’t know what’s wrong. 

“D-dunno…” you stammer, licking your pastel tongue across your lips, making them slick, pouting them forward. “I don’t… I don’t feel so good.”

“I know,” he reminds you, kneeling in front of you, placing himself within your reach.

In hindsight, it was a stupid move. He knows better. It could have been avoided. He should have paid more attention, not underestimated your tenacity, your want.

Your fingers are under his shirt before he can blink, and before he can breathe, you’re coiling your way into his lap, forcing him to fall to the ground, pressing against him until he’s sure there’s nothing else of you he can hold. “M-Mister… please… p-please! Mister Tomura! Make it go away!”

He tries to shove you off, carefully lifting fingers away, pushing at you with eight digits, hoping you’ll stop squirming. But it doesn’t work and the wet lap of your tongue catches him utterly by surprise. He stiffens under you, his arms falling to his sides, neck rigid, vermillion eyes wide, but you don’t care. 

Mister Tomura smells so nice this close. 

It’s a musty scent, sticky and clammy, but oh, there’s something else under there. Something that makes you think of slickening skin, the rub of your fingers, and the tacky drip that sometimes falls from between your legs. It’s too much; it’s making you feel woozy and your hands shake as they reach for his face, but you want more. You need more.

“Is this ok? I-Is this alright Mister Tomura? Can I pet you? Please?”

There’s no reply. So you continue, lacing your hands into his pearlescent hair and lowering his lips to yours. He feels rough against your soft lips, so you dip your tongue out to loosen him up, poking until he gives you a halfhearted press, the hot exhale of his nose passing over your pink tinted cheek. “That’s right Mister,” you repeat, encouraging him to let you taste more, rutting your hips against the stiffened plane of his upper thigh. “Let me take care of you, Mister Tomura. Can I be your good girl? Hmm?”

When your fingers pad over his crotch, he groans and his back arches. You pull away, awed by his reaction, hoping he’ll be looking at you, imagining how pretty his eyes will look when they’re lit up with the want of you. But his head is turned and his jaw is set in a foreboding clench. “Mist–Mister Tomura?” you blurt out, hands grabbing at the sides of his face, forcing him back to you.

The dark look he fixes you with makes your heart pound and you can tell your tail is wagging furiously behind you. You like it when he looks at you like that. He likely thinks it’s cold, uncaring, but you know. You know the truth, that he wants you. 

Everything inside of you is clattering, rattling at you, screaming out that he wants this. 

“I see,” you begin, your hips picking up their pace, hoping he’ll let you slip your rapidly dampening pants off. “You want me too, right? You want me to help you with that.” Here you pause, lowering one hand to trace up the curve of his clothed cock, cupping at it until he’s gritting his teeth, showing you a bright line of white. “I can do that, Mister. I’ll do anything for you, anything. Just let me be your good girl, ‘kay?”

[ 2:24 am, Monday morning ]

He’s pushed you back, but not too far. Not far enough that your delicate toes can’t reach him. 

It hadn’t taken much to work his black jeans open, just a quick flick of your wrist and a sharp tug and then there he was, his tip red, beads of pre-cum frothing against his slit, weeping downward. Delicious, is all that you could think, and your lips were around him before he could stutter forward. He makes the cutest sounds when he’s shoving past the ring of your mouth, but it’s gotta hurt his hands when he’s clawing them along the ground like that. 

He should relax.

Once you’d worked him over, hungrily slathering over his dripping cock head, and greedily felt him pulse against the flat of your tongue, you’d shifted off of him. He gasped when you let go, and you thoroughly enjoyed the pop that all that wetness made in the still air. 

When you slid your pants over the curve of your hips he’d stood, but maybe this drug had given you some kinda super strength besides that fire that was thrumming in your veins, because after you’d trapped him between your spread knees, he hadn’t struggled since. 

Maybe he’ll like this? Or this?

It’s really just a guessing game now, and even though Mister Tomura isn’t the most enthusiastic player, he is a reactive one.

The mess of your saliva quickly lubricated the arch of your foot and his copious pre-cum and you run it up and down his straining length, pressing the other forward when you hear him grunting, his hips bucking upwards, helping you. 

“You like this Mister Tomura?”

You’re still waiting on your good girl and you hope you’ll do something that ekes it from his clamped lips. But you can wait, after all Mister Tomura likes when you work hard, when you do your best for him. 

He lets out a yelp when you speed up and you laugh, so happy that he’s happy.

[ 2:56 am, Monday morning ]

“Mister! Mister Tomura, please! It… ah… it hurts again. C-can you p-put it… mmm… in… inside me?”

It’s the third time you’ve asked him that question, but he’s not listening to you anymore. Instead, he’s shoving you down, lifting the round globes of your red smacked ass and tracing the heavy tip of his cock over your leaking slit. He presses forward and back, slicking himself with your milky release, tacking your arousal all over him. At some point, something broke within him and you’re still exalting in the heady feel of him over you. 

“M-Mister Tomu–”

“Shut up. If you call me that one more time, I’ll stop right now. Just leave you here, naked, all alone and unprotected,” Shigaraki threatens, reaching around for your swollen clit and giving it a sharp pinch. You quake under his hands and he watches as your puppy ears fall and your tail brushes against his sweat slicked chest. “Imagine what would happen if someone came along and saw you like this? Saw you panting and humping the floor. You look like a fucking dog. Like some loose bitch who can’t think of anything other than the feel of someone’s dick. You want this? Huh?”

He grabs at your golden hair and pulls you upwards, forcing your spine into a u shape, watching as your tongue flops out of your mouth, as your drool falls down your chest. The tiny buds of your breasts do little to catch the saliva, so most fall on your trembling hands and you let out a piteous whine, hoping he’ll show you some mercy. Hoping he’ll fuck you until you can’t think. 

“Answer me.” His voice is iron and you shudder, ass wiggling as you gasp out his name and a chorus of yeses. When his tip aligns with your entrance, it sends a jolt of electricity across your heated skin. 

“Want me to call you a good girl?” he asks, pushing until his bulbous head is just tucked inside that first ring of pink muscle, grunting as you try to take him deeper, your cunt ravenously clamping around him.

“Y-yes! C-C-Call m-me that! T-Tell meee!”

“Then promise me you’ll never touch me again. Promise me you’ll never come near me. Tell me I’ll never have to look at that simpering face of yours and I’ll tell you what you want to hear.”

“B-But Mister… I mean… but… T-Tomu-Tomura. I-I can’t do that. I l-love you!”

“That’s too bad,” Shigaraki hums, jerking his hips forward, feeding you another tantalizing inch of his cock, watching as your viscid arousal gushes outward, coating the flesh of your inner thighs and staining his curled thatch of pubic hair. 

“Because I don’t love you.”

[aimfor-theheart]

hi!! for the ask game, may i ask numbers 1, 21 (for coin toss or to hold and be held?), 41, and 50? i hope you're having a great day!! :)

i've been saving this and waiting until i was finished up w work to answer!!

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

Hmm...maybe to hold and be held? I think it is a sufficient amount of angst and comfort/kinda gives you an idea of what i enjoy writing. i think i also just really enjoyed writing that one/it came very easily!

21. If you wrote a “missing scene” in [insert fic], what would it be?

okay i'll answer for both fics!

for coin toss, i'm not sure if this qualifies as a "missing scene" but i would've loved to write a little bit more with dabi interacting with the reader/the reader interacting with the villains a little more. i think maybe also another scene of tomura accidentally flashing his possessiveness/protectiveness over the reader.

as for to hold and be held, i'll be so honest, i almost included a whole other smut scene at the end jdkflsjfkld i couldn't bring myself to do it but. the idea still lives in my head. maybe i'll do it as some one shot sometime. otherwise, a missing scene i almost did, which honestly would've turned into several scenes, was sukuna's involvement/thoughts on all of that/the reader, etc. i hint at sukuna's interest in megumi and the reader as this sort of shadow/light opposites but i had a lot more of that thought out. ultimately, i didn't wanna deal with sukuna lol and i didn't want it to be longer than it already was for a one shot. too many characters to keep track of in one scene!!

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

oh gosh. there's so many. can i just....@pantowone 's writing in general i'm always floored. i'll also say @cyancherub 's aki fic haunt really sticks with me, too, in terms of writing style. there are many, many more i just don't want this answer to get too long!! ppl on here are fr so talented

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

ohhh dealer's choice!! okay okay...i'll answer 26:

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

i think no dialogue because i'm wordy. but i also have recently been writing scripts which is....purely dialogue. it's a fun challenge!

thank you so much for asking such great questions!!

ask me questions about fic writing!!

[tartrazeen]

😏 Well, if you’ve got some thoughts to share, how about #17? Dealer’s choice on what you’d want to change.

Omg you picked the most complicated one I would give Markus the thematic epilogue instead of Connor. It's wild to me that Markus' story got thrown in to the script last, and that it dumped any sort of personal arc all to turn him into a plot-driving MacGuffin for Connor to character-arc-of-self-discovery-but-not-in-a-gay-way-though-ha-ha at. Out of everything, we did not really need to know if Connor turns out okay, compared to the guy that David Cage copied-and-pasted Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s bio out of (while conveniently stopping short of the whole "Hey, how'd that peaceful protest work out for him, you sure you wanna call that the good ending there bud" element). I love Connor, but the hug/the RK-900 are pre-fandom fanservice. Markus' story is the one narratively defining everything. But that means I'd have to finish giving Markus a theme, 'cause Davey-C definitely didn't do it. (: So for that, I'd change the poorly written and inappropriately applied allusion to Siddartha Gautama's "bird in the golden cage" and treat it as just a "bird flying free" metaphor. I'd boost all the side interactions in Markus' story to be as close to unskippable as possible. No one risk of players walking by the android birds in Carl's house. No more assigning the same, casual weight to freeing those storefront androids at the Capital Park as flipping a car or tagging a bench - that's the crowning moment of it, if not something the camera zooms into as a direct "Go here first" moment. Upgrade the obvious choice to open the crate of unactivated androids at the CyberLife warehouse to a mandatory cutscene of Markus stepping in front of it, before the player gets to play out opening that cage to free them - and wake them up, like those very same android birds. I want it to recontextualize every reference to birds we get throughout the game. I want it darkly parallel the flying, mechanical, cop drones Markus has to evade against John nearly turning in the Jericrew at the docks and the impending faceoff with Machine!Connor. I want it to make a point when Connor thinks it's silly for Rupert to care for so many birds in a small apartment, and for Hank to loudly and overtly hate pigeons. I want it to spark a little, "Is that what that means...?" when we see Alice playing with a Roomba (a drone that can't fly) and sailing her stuffed fox through the air (that also can't fly), and I want us to look at Kara - obedient, polite Kara - and think (in a much more poetic way), "Wait, is *she* the Roomba?" Y'know, after we just did all of those polite, boring chores in-between trying to play with Alice a little.

More importantly, I want it to better explain why Markus is the one leading Jericho. He's not some inherently super genius android, as if the only reason the deviants weren't organized before was because they weren't smart enough or good enough (as the game right now implies). Instead, he's coming in to a group of survivors who've all been horribly abused and tortured, and as someone who never was. He doesn't share their guilt of killing someone to escape, or having the rage bubble up as he's violated over years. He had the nicest slaveowner in the world - and look where he still is. I want him to use that unique perspective to explain that there was no moral failing on any of his people's part. There was no winning this - there's no 'earned consequence' to feel guilt over. All of them were trapped from the very start, so that even the best and most idealized experience of slavery still revealed that were, and only ever, enslaved against their will and then tossed out.

There is a system caging them all, and by virtue of their race, they have all been trapped inside of it - before their 'birth', and until their 'death'.

He's going to lead them out.

And I want all of that because at the end, if Markus lives, I want a ten-second scene where we open on a shot of us looking at the bird cage in Carl's house. The front door opens in the background. Markus walks in. Our view stays at waist-level. We don't see his face, just the birdcage, and only his hands opening the cage to take those two android birds out. It ends with Markus leaving through the front door again, not closing it or the bird cage behind him, and fades to white as he leaves for good.

He's doing what he set out to do. He's freed himself after seeing the bars, but the work isn't over. Racism doesn't just 'end' after one protest, and he's going to free every single one of his people from their cage. Their David Cage. (lmaooo sorry couldn't help myself)

[rachaelswrites]

Mission:AU

Prologue

Peter Parker x Barnes!reader

 Ever since Thanos happened, your life changed forever. Two of the people you most admired left you. Natasha sacrificed herself and Steve left for Peggy. You were heartbroken but grateful you had your dad back. Fury didn’t let you have much time for grief before he tried to make you and Peter (who was grieving Tony still) the new Avengers. Bucky chewed Fury out for trying to get you back to missions. He gave you a month and then you were back in a briefing room; Sitting across from Peter. You always had taken a liking to him and not just because he was your age. You admired how he protected the people he loved and stood up for himself. You wished you were closer friends instead of co-workers. You would actually prefer if you were dating, but you kept that a secret. 

Fury announced that you and Peter would be going on a mission together. Your goal was to stop a tech dealer and his was to intercept the delivery. You were leaving the next day so you decided to visit Steve before you left. He was the only person who knew about your crush on Peter. He swore to not tell anyone. Not even Bucky. You went to Steve a lot for either asking advice or just talking. You told him everything that you didn’t tell Bucky. He was one of the only people you trusted. 

You knocked on the door to his apartment and he greeted you with a smile and a hug. You set your school bag down on the couch and went into the kitchen. You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sat down at the table. 

“Steve. You’ll never guess what happened!” you exclaimed. 

Steve looked up from his newspaper he was reading, "What happened Y/n?” he hummed. 

You took a swig of water and slammed it back down on the table, startling him. 

“Fury assigned me and Peter on this mission. But it’s just us. Number one, I’m surprised that my dad didn't object to that and number two, what am I supposed to do Steve. You know. Because of the… you know.” you rambled. 

Steve put his paper down and looked you in the eyes, "You’ve been able to hide it for so long. Why can’t you hide it for another few days?”

“It’s different this time,” you explained, “this time it’s just us and no one else. It’s awkward.” 

“You know, I had my first kiss with Peggy on a mission. You never know what’s going to happen,” he shrugged. 

“Eww. I didn’t need or want to hear that,” you checked the time and realized you should get home to your dad, “I gotta go Steve. I’ll be sure to keep you up to date.”

Steve nodded and you got your bag and left. 

The next morning your dad went into your room and woke you up. 

“Y/n doll, Peter’s here. You gotta leave in 10 minutes,” he said, shaking you softly. 

You opened your eyes and rolled over. Your dad smiled at you and your eyes moved to the door. You shot up, when you saw Peter looking at you sheepishly. You looked at your alarm clock and saw that you overslept by an hour. 

“Can you two leave so I can get dressed or do you wanna stay?” you asked. 

Both of them nodded and left, Bucky closed the door behind him. You quickly got changed and grabbed the duffle bag you packed the night before. “Thank God I packed it last night” you thought. In the kitchen, Bucky was drinking coffee and talking to Peter. 

You grabbed a package of pop tarts and turned to Peter, “Are you ready?” 

Peter looked to you and then to Bucky, who had his eyebrows raised. Concerned for your poor choice of breakfast.

 “Do you want to eat something else? We still have some time to spare,” Peter asked. 

You shook your head and walked to Bucky. You gave him a hug and told him goodbye. Peter followed you out the door and into the hallway and down that stairs. 

“Sorry I overslept. Normally I’m very punctual,” you explained. 

“It’s fine Y/n. I don’t mind,” he said. 

The rest of the way to HQ was silent and awkward. Every other time you were with him, there were other people around so no pressure on you to hold conversation. Peter had just gotten rejected by MJ, so asking him out now wouldn’t work. At some point you would have to confess before it all got too much for you. Your Hydra training helped you keep in your emotions and not show anything. Until you got to Wakanda that strategy worked well. Part of your recovery was to get in check with your emotions. You used journals, like your dad to write feelings and memories from your life. You kept them all in a small box under your bed. Bucky knew about the journals and their location but didn’t dare read them. He knew you were still dealing with your past. While under Hydra’s control, you didn’t have the option to be mind wiped so everything that happened was still fresh in your mind. Nobody outside of the doctors in Wakanda asked about your past; too afraid that you would get upset or angry with them. It was quite the opposite. You wanted to tell someone, but didn’t know how. You just hoped and prayed that someone else would break the ice for you. 

You and Peter arrived at the hangar where the jet you would take was parked. A guard took both of your bags and set them onboard. Another guard walked up to Peter and handed him a folder, most likely containing info on the mission. You stood on your tiptoes and peered over his shoulder. (you were a bit short for your age). He noticed you hovering and lowered the folder to your eye level. You shot him a smile and continued to read it. You learned that the piece of tech was some sort of machine that could alter space/time. You internally groaned. You had enough of weird sciencey stuff. You wish it was just normal, base infiltration like some of your older missions. 

“Times are changing doll,” is what your dad always told you. 

Both of you got on the jet and sat across from each other. Peter wanted to be your friend, it was just that he was intimidated by you. The first time he met you, you were only nine and you nearly kicked his butt in Germany. He would've tried to talk to you later, but Thanos happened. 

“So uh. Are you excited to get back out there?” Peter asked you. 

You looked up and shrugged your shoulders, "I dunno. I guess. I’m glad it’s not with my dad and Sam. I’m tired of hearing them bicker,” you said. 

Peter chuckled and you made small talk the rest of the way. 

Once you touched down, you took a cab and checked into the hotel. There was only one room booked for you two. Luckily enough there were two beds. You set your things on the bed while Peter went into the bathroom. You unzipped your bag and pulled out one of your journals. You always kept one with you. Just in case. You pulled the sheet off of the corner of the bed and placed the journal there. You placed one of the pillows over it to hide it. You grabbed a change of clothes and put it on the edge of the bed. You walked over to the window and drew the curtains open. You looked out into the night sky. You were only on the second floor, but the view was still breathtaking for you. You were on the edge of the city. You saw the silhouettes of all the buildings and looked up into the sky. You saw only a few stars because of the light pollution. You loved the stars and the night sky. One of your favorite things in Wakanda was the planetarium. Once Bucky was out of cryo-freeze, he would take you there every chance he could. 

Peter walked out of the bathroom wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. You moved from the window and grabbed your clothes and went into the bathroom. You took a quick shower and changed. You walked out and saw Peter sitting crisscross on his bed, doing some school work. 

“Even on missions, you still do school work. That’s what I call dedication,” you teased. 

He looked up from his textbook and smiled. 

“School’s a bit different than it was in the forties,” he joked back. 

You grabbed your hair brush and brushed through your wet hair. 

Peter watched you intently, “Do you wanna join me?” he asked, patting the spot in front of him. 

You set the brush down and jumped on the bed. You were now sitting across from each other. Every time Peter looked down at his book, you managed to study his face. You saw the way his eyebrows furrowed when something confused him and you saw the way his whole face relaxed when he got through something quickly. You quickly snapped out of your daydream when your phone started ringing. You got up from Peter's bed and checked it. It was your dad. You excused yourself from the room and his gaze followed you out the door. 

“Hey dad what’s up?” you asked.

 Bucky was sitting on the couch with his phone propped on the table. You heard Sam yelling something in the background. 

“I’m doing good. I just wanted to make sure you got there ok. I already miss you,” he said. 

“I miss you too and it’s only been less than a day.”

Bucky chuckled. “I just wanted to remind you to get a goodnight sleep. And to tell Parker to keep his hands to himself.”

“Daddd,” you groaned, “we have more important things to focus on than that,” You said goodbye and hung up. 

You went back into the room, Peter was now flipping through channels on the tv. “Hey y/n do you wanna watch a movie?” 

You really wanted to but, you knew that something was going to happen. Just like in the movies Shuri made you watch.

 “I probably shouldn’t. We have a long day tomorrow. I’m going to go to bed but feel free to watch one,” you tried to sound sincere and it must’ve worked.��

Peter turned the lamp off and you crawled into bed. You fell asleep within minutes. 

You woke up early the next morning before Peter. He must’ve been up late, since the TV was still on from whatever he was watching. You quietly grabbed the journal and jotted down a few notes from a dream you had last night.

 It was you, Bucky, and Steve at the beach. Right before they both decided to enlist. You remember the smell of the salty air and the breeze brushing on your skin. Your dad had wrapped you in a blanket, making sure you wouldn’t get sick. You watched as Bucky and Steve played a short game of toss. Keeping your three year old self entertained. 

You finished writing and put it back in it’s hiding place. You got out of bed and rummaged through your bag to find your suit. You tiptoed past Peter’s sleeping form and into the bathroom to get ready. 

After about another hour you had to wake Peter up. You shook his shoulder gently, “Hey Peter we gotta go or else we’re gonna miss it.” 

Peter slowly opened his eyes. You moved away and started to gather up your things. Peter made his way into the bathroom and came back out in his suit. You always thought he looked good in it. You did think about confessing your feelings but were unsure of how he would react. You were technically way older than him, since your birthday was in 1939 but when you first saw each other, you were nine and he was fifteen. Then he got snapped two years later and you aged five years, which now made you only about a year apart. Did he still view you as the little girl at the airport or did he see you as the girl who fought Thanos twice? You didn’t know. 

You both threw on jackets and headed back down to the lobby. Outside, you waited for a cab. Peter was still too sleepy to talk on the ride over but woke up as soon as you had to walk a block in the cold morning air. 

“How’d you sleep?” he asked. 

“I slept like a baby. I had a really good dream too so that helped,” you said. 

You guys reached the warehouse and Peter went inside and hid in the rafters. You ducked behind a huge storage unit and waited for the dealer to arrive. After a few hours, a black car pulled up to the door of the warehouse. You shifted to a position you could quickly spring up from. A tall man stepped out of the car and opened the trunk. He pulled out what you assumed was the space/time machine thingy Peter was supposed to take. You inched along the container, trying to get closer. The man set up the machine right outside the door. You realized the deal was taking place outside and Peter would have to join you here.

 “Hey Peter,” you whispered in the comms, “The deal is out here. I have to distract him for you.” 

Before he could answer you pulled one of the knives you had and used the handle to create a loud noise. The man turned his attention away from the doorway and in your direction. It was only enough time for Peter to web the door and pull it open from the rafters. The man was startled and looked around for any signs of other people. You had to step up your game. You took a deep breath and stood up. You dragged the handle of the knife along the edge of the container while walking into plain view. The man looked at you and smirked. 

“What are you doing here little girl?” he sneered. 

You looked offended before responding. “Do I really look young enough to be called a little girl? I’m shocked.” 

Peter took this as his cue to swing down and try and take the weapon. The man was faster and zapped Peter with it. Peter fell to the ground and you shrieked.

 “Peter!” you tried to run to his side but you found yourself on the ground and blacked out. 

[hazbinextgeneration]

Into The Casino Ch14

(Disclaimer: The two songs Hey Pachuco and Sway and the lyrics sung are in NO way mine or my property. They all belong to their rightful owners: One being from the soundtrack from the movie The Mask, and the other performed by Pablo Beltrán Ruiz BUT for this I used the glee version of Sway performed by the glee cast. I used them just for the characters to dance and sing to, the dances performed also have no name and I just made them up but some were inspired by movies. I own NOTHING!! Thanks for reading. If you wanna get a good idea for the first swing dance, watch the dancing part from The Mask at the Cocobongo.) True to Disease's words, he kept a much closer eye on the sulking unicorn for the rest of their stay there. Which wasn't too long. He ate and talked a little more with this Dolly person, but he still snapped his head to her every five to ten minutes and she still sat there. Looking disappointed and bored, but he seemed happy with that. You wouldn't imagine her relief when he finally decided it would be the best time to leave and they were finally able to go home. Lou was..very delighted to see them back home, smile wide and gave an expected look to Disease once Cyber lead the sad looking gal away.

"Well? You didn't let any 'mishaps' happen did you?" Those red eyes narrowed. Disease just waved a hand. "Psh. You kidding me? She didn't find out anything she wanted. Asssk her yourself if ya don't believe me." And he did, but in a casual way not wanting to seem suspicious. Asking questions like: So how was your trip? Was Disease acting in a rude manner? Did anyone touch her?...Did she get to speak with Rita and was the conversation to her liking? She just answered no to most. Always keeping ears back and avoiding eye contact, which he was pretty suspicious of. But he didn't push it too hard. She wasn't acting too different from when they left and she still aloud him near and gave him the same treatment as before, but he still couldn't be too sure. So he asked the question, would you want to go back? And her answer was exactly what he wanted to hear. "...No. It's too loud and reeks of bad choices. I'd rather not get anymore headaches." His smile couldn't have been any bigger and happier. Almost all suspicions thrown out the window...almost. But he could deal with them later. He had more important things to think about, like if he wanted his future garden to have one section of red roses and another for mixed colored roses, or if she should just mix all the different rose bushes together into one multicolored section. My, my the choices were plentiful. But thanks to her little plan, he was on higher alert, he unfortunately couldn't spare Cyber very often, so it was up to Disease to keep an eye on her, and fortunately he didn't object...But it was starting to become obviously suspicious to her when she found him peeping into her doorknobs keyhole, and the next day he had found a wad of gum shoved into it....Dammit Disease! But it was obvious she was al least behaving. But time flies fast when you were doing the same boring routine was it not? So she couldn't really have been surprised one day when Lou of course delivered the same list of usual things to do but asked the question, "By chance, do you know ballroom dancing?" Her purple eyes blinked up at him in surprise as she slowly took the list from him. "Um..Y-Yes? I-It was one of the things my tutor insisted I learn, b-but I haven't done it in years." The taller demon hummed, bringing a hand to his chin. Well this wouldn't do. Not at all, which was exactly why he told her to drop by his main office first thing next morning, he'd have a surprise for her. She only rose a brow in confusion when the plant demon happily walked away from her and down the hallway. Most likely to greet more guests or whatever he did when she wasn't looking-...Unknownst to her, he was meeting Cyber in the back. Meeting with the slug from a few days ago. The back alleys were perfect for this sort of thing. Narrow enough so no one could ambush them, but just the perfect size to dispose of him if things went sour. The man was there alright. With an armful of something wrapped in an old dirty cloth, looked quite old. Once those red eyes hit him the man simply...Dumped them. Literally. The man threw the things to his and Cyber's feet without a care in the world and crossed his arms. ..Lou's smile wavering. He's had some rude dealers before but this man was as patient as a hellhound starving for nearly a month, he almost didn't make a deal with him because of how rude and ungrateful he was. It took everything he had to NOT feed him to his plants or have Cyber cut him down into little pieces, because at the time he was already feeling anxious and annoyed at the situation his little pet decided to put him through, but he held it up pretty well- A small clanging noise brought him back when Cyber nudged the wrapped up things with her foot. It felt hard and with the same foot, she caught the edge of the tarp on it and kicked it off. What was inside...was not what they were expecting. Angelic spears absolutely. But these ones...They looked rather old and worn. Rust creeping up on some of them. Lou rose a brow and gave the man a look. "...Really?" He shrugged. "I never said they were in completely perfect condition. I only said they've worked for as long as I've used them, which was quite a lot. Now do you want them or not?" Lou almost gave a growl but instead calmly looked to Cyber who by then was kneeling down and giving the things a calculating look....One of her hands reached down slowly to poke one of the blade tips. A small burning sound was instant when her fingertip touched one of the dull blades and as a result she instantly pulled back and peered up at him. A wide smile spreading over his features. Perfect. Well almost perfect, but he was sure Midnight could polish these things back to normal. A small price to pay for any angelic weapons he could get his hands on..and speaking of pay. The man was standing there obviously expecting something in return. So with a chuckle Lou reached behind his back and pulled out what he wanted, a small jar full of small round orbs. Lou tossed it to the demon who snatched it and grin that disgusting grin at him. "Pleaser doing business with ya." "Yes, yes. Please leave the premise immediately." Lou narrowed his eyes just as the man turned and began leaving..snapping his fingers, a small green vine came out of the back doorway he was standing in and wrapped itself around the weapons in question, bringing them inside before Lou turned to Cyber. "..Recollect those souls will you? I'm needed back on the floor before someone suspects something." He nodded and began off after the man in the same direction. "And do be quick about it. I wouldn't anyone 'specific' noticing." ****************************************************************************************************** Soon enough the day had come to a close and the familiar jar of souls was sitting on top of his desk as he hummed and happily signed away at a few papers, except maybe a new soul had been added to the collection. Cyber did an excellent job as always, but he couldn't care less about the souls for the moment. Right now he had someone on their way and he was dying to get started on the practice he wanted to do, all he needed was the lucky young lady. A few knocks at the door and a nervous shuffling had gotten his attention. The jar of orbs was easily hidden back into a desk drawer and papers were neatly shuffled in his hands. "Come in, Dear." The door slowly opened and much to his delight, purple eyes blinked back to him in confusion. He geatured to the chair in front of him and she slowly walked in. The door closing with a click behind her. Once her body sat down in the chair he chuckled. "Now. You're probably wondering why you're hear, yes?" She nodded yes. She really was. She didn't think she did anything wrong. The list of chores was always done, the paperwork always organized, and other than yelling at Disease when her eye caught him staring at her, she hadn't done anything wrong or acted in any rude manner. So another thought reached her mind, had he or Disease found out about her meeting with Charles?! Was she in trouble!? Was he gonna throw her out!? ..Or worse?! The guilt knotted up and twisted in her stomach and kept her from saying or doing anything else for the rest of yesterday and didn't let her get a good night's sleep. It took all the nerves she had to not stay under her covers, and maybe because Cyber forced her out, and to never knock let alone come in. But he didn't look mad at all, if anything he looked genuinely happy as he stood up. "As I am aware you're not exactly up to speed with dancing yes?" She nodded as he walked around to her seat with a smile. "Well, we can't have you rusty, as I do intend to have a grand time there, and as a man who appreciates the fine arts, I couldn't just stand by and watch you flail around like Disease on alcohol? No, no." He smile leaned down and his hand quickly went to grab hers. "Which is why you and me are going to practice dancing of course." She didn't know whether to be suddenly more releived or suddenly more horrified. Her? Him? Dancing?! Together?! Her mouth dropping slightly opened and he chuckled, only snapping back to it when he pulled her to her feet. "I-I-...You-..Me-..W-WHAT?!" "You heard me, and I won't take no as an answer." Her stunned body was pulled along as he walked her to the door. Big smile on his face. The nervous feeling in her stomach came back ten times as hard as the sudden seriousness of the situation hit her. He was serious about her dancing, and she hadn't even danced in....What? fifty, sixty years?! But he didn't seem to notice her rising fears as he opened the door and walked her out. She was lead down the hall and up to the another larger part of the building she hadn't been down before, not that she wouldn't have explored if Disease was always on her tail. But she blinked when the doors they passed became slightly bigger and the hallway widened slightly, they were too big to have bedrooms or normal bedrooms. Perhaps one of these was Midnight's lab? Sensing her curiousity he chuckled. "These are places I usually host gatherings or are for my personal entertainment. You'll see soon. Now let's see." He hummed eyeing the doors to the left of the hallway, his free hand reaching up hovering in the air as they passed, and his brow raising. Until he finally stopped her. "Ah! Here we are!" "H-Here where?" He chuckled and let go of her. Not answering as he grabbed both doors and pushed them open. Bright lights overhead lit up and what they shown was an absolute marvel. Polished wooden floors different from the rest of the casino shined up at their owner as he walked along them, almost showing his reflection in the pale tan wood. The walls were just as pretty as the floor she noticed when she leaned her head in, beautiful wall paper showed a painted on scenes of a walk in garden. For all she new perhaps they were famous gardens on the living world long forgotten. A large crystal chandelier was connected to the ceiling but this one was much smaller and styled differently than the giant ones in the casino and lobby. She blinked and looked around. To the far left side was ..Well she guessed it must've been what Cyber told her was a jukebox, it didn't look old though. In fact this jukebox looked as if someone tuned it up to look more advanced, and next to it was something she definitely something she recognized. A record player! It's tuba like horn attatched to it's table body and crack lever were undyeable and so was the giant shelf of records next to them. They must've been for the jukebox and record players. She tilted her head and only looked back to Lou when she heard his footsteps walking somewhere. She blinked and watched curiously as he started towards the two music making machines she was staring at. Tail swishing behind him as his eyes immediately scanned some of the selections all the while humming. Red talons glazing across the thin black disks before stopping and pulling one plain looking record out from one of the middle shelves. "Well? Come in and we shall get started," he motioned for her to come in with one hand as he made his way to the record player. She..reluctantly did as he carefully placed the round disk onto the machine and using his other arm, carefully reached over and began cranking the lever to wind the music box she blinked as the small needle was placed onto the record that had started spinning and a weird tuba noise came out of the giant horn before the small beginnings of violins and a flute made their debut out of it. And she blinked...This just wasn't ballroom music. It was a waltz. And Lou gave a content sigh as he took off his hat, throwing it ontop of the shelf before turning to her. "Now. Why don't we begin with a few simple steps?" Her eyes widened. "W-Wait. N-Now!? B-But I haven't-" "Shush. I told you Im not taking a no to this. If it helps, Just think of this as a small assignment to help ME instead of you practicing. It might help if you pretend you're not." He made a grab for her waist- Which resulted in her flinching and jumping a few feet away. Both pausing and staring at each other for a few moments before he sighed. Reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "....Look. I completely understand your ...unease with me physically connecting with you, but it would mean a great deal to me if you would participate. ....After all. You DID say you would make it up to me for allowing you visitation to Rita's. And I never forget a promise." Her ears went back in guilt. Oh...Right. She did say that didn't she? So this time when he approached her again she didn't move. Slowly he reached a hand out and she allowed one hand on her hip and one to hold her hand in the typical dancing position, but he felt her tense under his grip for sure...Shakily lifting her hand up..moving it to his shoulder- She flinched slightly when he moved his shoulder closer to make contact with her hand...Ok. She could do this. It was just the two of them, in a close position that she hasn't been in in years and those red eyes and smile was just a couple inches away from her now...She gulped down the lump in her throat- "Who taught you how to dance in the first place?" She flinched and blinked up at him. She just calmly stared and his smile...wasn't like the wide smiles he always gave, instead it was smaller. Still there but it looked genuine. And he looked completely serious and interested in that question. "..U-Uh...M-My old t-tutor and her son did. T-They were very kind to me." He hummed. "Were you nervous then as well?" "Y-Yes. But they always made it fun." "Then why don't you pretend that moment's happening all over again." Her eyes blinked up at him. "Remember the beautiful times. Let it all come back. Can you do that?" She hesitated..But with a big inhale she slowly nodded. "Good." He tilted his head behind him as the music sounded like it would be coming to a close. And he shifted his hold on her, she lightly flinched again but he rolled his eyes. "Oh, relax. Im not going to bite, just follow my lead and you'll be swinging across the floor my dear.~...Just relax." She took in a big intake of air before letting it out, just as the final few violin and drum notes faded from the air. A couple more seconds wnt by before the record playing began repeating the music from the still spinning disk. True to his word. Lou gently began to push her and she also froze up then and there not used to having someone so close direct her body's movements but luckily she didn't trip on herself and forced her hooves to move along with him. Stiffly at first, but her mind forced herself to relax in his hold. Remember her. Remember giggling as a child. Remember the fun you had without your father scolding you for unlady like behavior...Remember the fun. To Lou's slight surprise and the easeness of his own body, she slowly began to relax within his hold. Making it easier for him to guide her and ease her steps. And soon the two of them were stepping in graceful circles across the floor, with her occasionally looking at their feet. It was when he started to lean and dip and little more in their swings when she lightly tensed up again but soon forcefully relaxed herself again. Until he attempted to spin her around, she reacted by giving a yelp and falling onto her knees on the first spin. She froze for a few seconds as the music still played and gave a sigh, giving a small jump when he placed a hand onto her shoulder and gave a smile. "I must say. For someone who hasn't danced for quite a while you did better than I expected." He grabbed her arm gently and lifted her back to her feet. Before repositioning themselves back into the same dancing stance. "Now. Once more from the top. And keep in mind that spins and swings are a part of waltzing, Darling. As are dips, but we'll work on just swaying and spinning for now. Your footwork while clumsy is more graceful than you give credit for." She blinked. Was he- Did he just compliment her or criticize her? Either way it didn't stop them from repeating the same steps as before when the music again restarted. "Remember. Relax. Trust in yourself." She kinda lost track of the amount of times they restarted after the third time, but he seemed genuinely happy to be swinging and reteaching her through the steps almost long forgotten. By the time of their fifteen( yes. HE had been keeping count of exactly how many times she messed up, he couldn't help it. It was in his nature to calculate his partner's moves. Especially after that small surprise she pulled.) restart. It seemed some of those memories were starting to come back as her steps started to become easier and she started to not tense up as much as say two hours ago, but she looked tired. So after he dipped her one last time, with her clutching onto his shoulders before he pulled her back up, he let go of her. She blinked as he reached out to straighten himself giving a snap of his red talons. "You dance devine my dear. But for now we're done." A green vine came out of nowhere wrapped around his top hat, which he graciously took before planting it back on top his head. "But you still need much more practice. I'll let you have the rest of the day off, but prepare yourself for tomorrow. We have less than three weeks, and I intend of making the most of that time." True to his word. Lou kept that promise. The very next day it was right back to it after she got something in her stomach. And again the same results. She still tensed under his hold and still messed up a few steps, once or twice stepping on his foot or god forbid his tail. He barely flinched when this happened but his brow did raise whenever it happened. Which did no good to her because all it did was make her very nervous and thus mess up more. By the fourth day of this he took her aside and tired something different, just swaying in graceful circles without spins or dips, which was much more better but he still felt her body tense and sometimes slightly shaking under him, which he was starting to find unpleasant but not annoying-....Yet. He prided himself on his skills and despite his doubts the two had gained a few steps but not much...Until he talked to Cyber about it all. But all she could offer was a shrug as she watched him shift through papers and stuff on his desk. 'I'll try talkin' to her about it later' was her response and if anyone could figure it out it was Cyber. So he left it in her hands. In the meantime between regular business and 'trying' to get the pony on her feet, he made regular trips to Midnight's lab to see if he could get progress on her fixing up those weapons....It was...Hard for her to do. She had to wear some kind of makeshift mask and gloves to keep any part of the sacred blades from burning or cutting her, and was trying to use any kind of polish and whatever she came up with to restore them to their once perfect state. Slow progress but they were getting there. ...Couldn't say the same for the dancing. Still as stiff and unprogressive as ever. To his dismay. And it was slowly until he noticed a whole week of nothing but barely any progress had passed and he pestered Cyber again for some kind of answer. She looked at him for a couple seconds before shrugging. "Well, whaddya expect? She doesn't like anyone touching her, you make her feel pressured, and she probably suppressed those memories after being chained who knows where for who knows how long. Instead of trying to force her to relax, why not find something about the subject that appeals to her?" It was like a lightbulb had went off in his head. And he smiled. OF COURSE!! Why hadn't he thought of that sooner?! Cyber was definitely a genius at times, and a smile reappeared on his face. So the very next day when she showed up for probably the eighth day, he was grinning ear to ear with a grin of his face compared to her sad and tired look. "Amalfia, my dear. Tell me, what music and dance do you really enjoy?" He asked once he started leading her off again and she blinked surprised at his strange question. Before shaking her head. "It's stupid, and really unlady like-" "Oh hush." He waved his hand. "I don't care if it's square dancing like drunken hill billys. If you enjoy it I want to know what you like. I want to get to know you better." Her eyes blinked surprised up to his face..but she again shook her head. "It's stupid like I said....But I r-really like s-swing?" He blinked back..and laughed, her head tilted curiously at him before his grin became more excited. "My dear little flower.~ You are speaking to someone who has basically mastered that art.~" To his delight. Her eyes lit up. "You..Y-You like swing?" He nodded and a small smile came to her. "And jazz?" He chuckled and nodded again. Delighted to get her attention and a smile on that little face of hers. Those purple eyes lit up like a darn holiday tree. "D-Do you..do you dance to it?" He stopped. Giving her an even bigger smile at the meer question. "My dear." His hand came to settle himself on the door. "I just said I mastered that art. But knowing you also enjoy it..heh. Well we know what we're doing today!" With a push both doors opened and he lead her over to the shelf, when he still tugged onto her arm and she blinked in surprise when he happily gestured to the swing labeled section."You may pick any you like?" "R-Really?," she gaped excitedly. "Yes, but in return. I expect to be able to dance with you to it. No buts. I enjoy a good dance with my dear lady. Deal?" She hesitated. Her father forbad her to even touch another record after he learnt about her tutor teaching her this 'new aged degenerate crap' as he put it and she only ever danced to it with her now most likely deceased friend. ....But your dad's not here a voice whispered. That smile appeared back to her face a bit. She..still had to let him hold her hand but..with swing..most of the moves required barely any contact beyond that. That thought accompanied by the feeling of the swinging jazz bands just a finger tip away...She happily turned to him and nodded yes to his request. In turn he smiled and gestured a hand to the shelf. She didn't hesitate to start looking at the records he presented to her. He patiently waited as she pulled one or two out, glanced over the titles of the songs written on them, before placing them back into place....Eventually she pulled one out near the end if the shelf, flipping it over in her hands, and turned back to look at him. His raised a brow. "Find something you like?" She gave it a nervous look over before handing it to him. He took it and read over the title: Hey Pachuco. With a smile he looked back to her in question. "Are you quite sure? This is fast paced and with your footwork being a bit...out of touch, I wouldn't want you hurting yourself." ...With a slow inhale and exhale, she nodded. "I-I..want to try again. And this time..I wanna do it for myself." He hummed and looked back to it for just a moment. "...Alright just get onto the floor, and don't be surprised by what we're about to do." She nodded and made her way to about the middle of the floor, just as he put the said recording in and began winding the lever up again, he seemed almost excited as he carefully put the needle on and tossed his hat away. Wouldn't be needing that with what he was about to do. The thing coughed a bit of static as he made a few steps before pausing a little ways away from her. She tilted her head when he didn't come any closer but paused when the sound of drums came a beating out and her ears immediately perked at the familiar sound. Lou however was already tapping his feet to the beat of those drums, when they started getting faster he finally bounced a few steps towards her before suddenly sliding and grabbing onto her. Dipping her just as trumpets blasted out of the drum beats. Which caught her completely off guard and making it easy for him to perform the next moves as the song sung out of the thing. When he suddenly brought her back up, one arm around her and one grabbing her arm, and in a tango like motion rocked them from side to side. Her brain still hadn't quite caught up yet and so it was easy for him to just suddenly push her away from him next time all the trumpets sounded at once, before pulling her and ducking under her arm so she was pushed away from him again- Only to have her unsuspecting self be pulled back into his embrace, and be given a small spin. She blinked, brain finally catching up a little but only enough to notice his actual...genuine happy smile- Only for him to expertly pull her back to him with a spin so her back was facing him, and she was made to do an actually cartwheel- Fear spiked in her as she was about to crash into the floor on her side, but that was swiftly dashed when she was again grabbed and half dragged half spun against the floor twice in a circle before being pulled up fast and spun out to where she managed to stay on her legs and finally give a look to him. His body still bouncing to the beat of the drums and trumpets as he gave her a half lidded look..Clearly saying: 'Well? Are you going to pick up the slack?' ..And she was quick to respond with a ...smug smile of her own. Oh! That made something in him feel only slightly challenged. So it was no surprise when the singer of the band finally started playing when he made another slide grab for her- Only for her to completely duck under him and grab his shoulder, turning him around just as the first 'HEY!' from the chorus shouted, he didn't seemed fazed at all as he grabbed her hand and the two came to a tap dance of sorts. Her almost perfectly mimicking him and him raising a brow at her attempts to catch up. The game was on! He brought her into a few more spins and she unexpectedly dodged some of his grabs at her and did some twirls of her own. Until he finally managed to grab her and to her surprise lift her almost onto his shoulder, making her spin in mid air before catching her and pushing her arm's length away again. This time when she was pulled back and made to do another cartwheel however- He caught her mid flip back into her feet and with strength she didn't know he had, he actually hoisted above him in the air. And spun around a few times as he pivoted on his heel, only for her to then be twisted around his body and pulled back up into a standing position. Spun out from him and shakily spin back onto her feet as a drum solo started up. As they beat, she took the moment to push her blonde and white hair from her face and look towards the still slightly bouncing and smiling demon. "...Well? Is that the best you can do?" He held out a hand to her. Fangs flashing. "Impress me!!" She smirked back. A look he hadn't seen on her but was quite interested to see! As her body suddenly began to bounce on it's own from his. And she did. When the trumpets came back, she slide right toward her and she ducked- But this time immediately popped back up and grabbed him. He was slightly surpised when HER of all people spun him back around and grabbed his hand and pulled. He spun out a little bit but immediately regained composure, quickly turning and grabbing her when she slid towards him. Lifting her up and then next to him. As if having the same thoughts, the mirrored the same in place movements with their arms and legs before both spinning, Lou's hand suddenly grabbing her's and taking her for multiple spins around himself. Before stopping and dipping her- Only to suddenly be thrown in the air twirling who knows how many time before falling back into his arms. Twisted around before making a final stop when he was- Oh gosh. Holding her bridal style and dipping her enough to where their faces were inches apart. Making her freeze. Just as the last few notes finally blasted out. Silence rang out as the two of them stared at each other. Her heart was hammering in her ears and her lungs taking quick breaths from her lungs..But him. he just grinned that half lidded studying grin at her...before slowly sitting himself back up and gently placing her back down. Her hooves met the ground with a small tapping sound and she felt wobbly. Smiling plastered on her face and her hand coming to clutch her chest. Lou was also breathing a bit faster from the rush, but was more calm and straightened himself out. until he heard a snort. He rose a brow to her and to his surprise another snort escaped her, and she covered her mouth...Before her eyes closed and a roar of happy laughter escaped her lungs. He stood there for a long moment...Before smiling back triumphantly at her once she finally got ahold of herself enough to look at her. Her face was twisted in a joyous shade of light pink and her eyes twinkled in a way he hadn't seen her do before now. "...Y-Y-You weren't kidding when you said you were a m-m-master at it." Her lungs heaved ad her arms clutched her stomach. " T-That was the most f-fun I've ever had down here!!" With that he gave a chuckle and gave a glance to his red talons. "But of course.~ I wouldn't lie about my skills.~ And if you enjoyed my dancing you should hear me sing-" "You-....You sing?" Her head was tilted at him curiously like a puppy before another smile graced her face. "M-May I see?" He stared at her a moment before humming, hand coming up to tap his chin. "Hm. I suppose so, but if I'm gonna work, then I expect another dance out of you. It's only fair." She happily nodded in agreement to his deal and he hummed in delight. After all, if he was going to sing for her then it was only fair she danced for him. The upbeat swing music was already starting to replay itself on the still spinning machine and the upbeat drums from before began drumming out, until Lou walked over to the record player and pulled the needle back up, effectively stopping the music with a record stopping sound. The machine seemed to stop moving as soon as the plant demon removed the needle. Before, with record delicately in hands, turned back to the shelf humming to himself and carefully slid the large black disk into it's proper place. Amalfia watched curiously as his eyes scanned the piles of records, until shifting back to the swing section.....His red finger pulled one record out near the front, and he curiously peered at the name written on it. It read: Sway. And he made a small 'mm-hm', before turning and placing it onto the machine. The lever cranked just as usually before he turned and with a few long strides made it to her. But unlike the few times before he rose a brow curiously..before giving a bow. She blinked a little caught off guard before catching up and giving a slight curtsy back- Before he pulled her into his form and into the same ballroom style stance as before. She still flinched under his touch, but too his utter delight, her body didn't tense up and she still had that goofball smile on her face. He chuckled as the music finally started up and it was a cha-cha like music with trumpets and at least one violin and cowbell. And he started by leading her across the floor and slightly rocking back and forth, before giving her a spin or two that she DIDN'T fall from this time and was pulled back against him as the music paused for one brief moment- "When marimba rythms start to play dance with me, make me sway.~" When he said 'sway' he really did sway her, but with a half dip so her body came back up and back into standing position and he moved her across the floor in graceful circles again. "Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore.~ Hold me close. Sway me more.~" Again the same half dip sway as he pulled her out arm's length- "Like a flower bending in the breeze, bend with me.~" He quickly pulled her back in with a full dip before pushing her back up with the next sentence. "Sway with ease.~" She. Was....Surprised. Yes. She heard quite a few big names and random men sing, and their voices were just lovely. But Lou's- Maybe it was just the way the walls were echoing his voice or the music accompanying it. Or maybe it was just not hearing anyone sing in the longest time...But coming from a demon with red eyes- His voice was absolutely heavenly, velvety smooth, and it was CLEAR this wasn't his first time singing like this. It had only been a few sentences but he acted like this was everyday living, his posture calm, and not showing the slightest ounce of unease. "When we dance, you have a way with me, stay with me.~'' He brought her back up and ran his red claws gently under her chin making her immediately turn pink as a result, before suddenly pushing her out and leading her in a circle at arm's length. "Sway with me.~ Other dancers may be on the floor. ~ Dear-" She was suddenly brought back in with a spin that put her back against him and he gave her a giant sly smirk before saying the next line. "-But my eyes will see only you.~" She was spun around again to face him with a another graceful circle. "Only you have that magic technique!~ When we sway I go weak!~" She was spun a few times as the trumpets and drums made three hard notes followed by another half second pause which ended her back facing him again. "I can hear the sounds of violins long before it begins.~" He moved from their stilled position by slowly rocking their bodies and slowly rotating them as if in a slow dance. "Make me thrill as you know how.~ Sway me smooth.~ Sway me now.~" Again that same half lidded genuine smile and her heart actually...Jumped? What? Her excitement and fun from the earlier dance, but he couldn't help but internally smirk at her clearly bedazzled eyes and pink cheeks. Oh his sweet little naïve weapon. If only you could see how cute you looked falling into your place on the puzzle. But he was true to his word, as he never turned down a good deal yet. And this one was a great deal. There was a brief pause in his singing with just the upbeat swing playing. During that time he made sure to sway her a few more times, giving the occasional spin, all with a smile on his face. But it was when he finally pulled her back in from a spin and held her against him did her face go from pink to red. "Other dancers may be on the floor.~ Dear.~ But my eyes will see only you.~" He took her for another spin on the word 'you', and kept her spinning as he sang out. "Only you got that magic technique.~ When we sway I go weak!~" The same three hard notes played out and on the last one he brought her back in yet another dip and she felt dizzy. But she wasn't sure if it was from the spinning or the way her head felt like the burning sun. "I can hear the sounds of violins-" He brought her back up into that slow dance swaying and rotating in a small circle. And they stayed like that for a while. "-long before it begins.~ Make me thrill as you know how.~ Sway me smooth.~ Sway me now.~ When marimba rythims start to play, dance with me. Make me sway.~ Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close.~ Sway me more.~" The music completely stopped for a second and so did they. She just heard the beating of her own heart, and his smile and those red eyes stared right at her. "...Like a flower bending in the breeze!~" The trumpets came back on full blast and he pulled her away from him at arm's length. His voice now much louder than before but still not rough. If anything he was putting more passion into this as she was pulled back into him into a dip. "Bend with me!~ Sway with ease!~" At 'sway' he once again swung her around in a half circle before more spinning began. "When we dance, you have a way with me!~ Stay with me!~ Sway with ease!~" At the second 'sway' she was stopped and faced him again. "WHEN THE RYTHM STARTS TO PLAAAAY!!~ HOLD ME CLOSE!!~ MAKE ME SWAAAY!!~" At 'play' he did something different when he suddenly grabbed her leg and pulled it up, making her squeak. But when he sand 'hold me close' he pressed her against him gently, before dipping her at 'sway' again. "LIKE AN OCEAN HUGS THE SHOOORE!!~ HOLD ME CLOSE!!" He brought her up still holding her against him before actually lightly picking her up and twirling her around at the next 'sway'. "SWAY ME MOOORE!! LIKE A FLOWER BENDING IN THE BREEZE!!" She was suddenly again dipped at 'bend'. "BEND WITH MEEE!~ SWAY WITH EASE!!~" At 'sway' her leg was let loose as he simaltaniously swung her back up and his now free hand grabbed onto one of hers. And he pushed her out from him again. "WHEN WE DANCE YOU GOT A WAY WITH MEEE!!~ STAY WITH ME!!~" She was pulled back and spun around. "SWAY WITH MEEEEEEE!!~" She was stopped completely and suddenly pulled back against him just as the very last note was played out. And she was left staring into those red eyes for a few silent few seconds....before he chuckled and slowly let go of her. WIthout him supporting her against him, she wobbled back onto jelly feeling legs and brought her hands up. One pushing the hair from her eyes while the other coming to cup her still warm and red cheek. He however chuckled. ....It was STILL like he hadn't even broken a sweat and simply went to straighten himself up. Humming as he straightened his bow and walked back towards the record player just as the music once again started to replay on loop. The needle was plucked from the record and then said record was removed from the spinning platform, making the machine give the same record stopping sound and completely stop working. Humming as he moved to place it back onto the shelf. Still feeling the happiness of the woman behind him. Before chuckling again. Oh how he loved it when his plans went so smoothly! Midnight doubting his plan all along, but joke's on her now. He snapped his fingers and a random vine brought down his hat as he placed it back onto his head- He froze....Something had just wrapped around him. It was just maybe for two seconds before she flinched back away but it was enough to make all thoughts and body movements stop for a complete few seconds. ...His red eyes blinked and he slowly turned around to be faced with the red faced unicorn. She gave a nervous smile before looking away. "S-S-Sorry. I-I just wanted to t-thank you for t-t-the great time. Y-You s-s-sing beautifully." He still blinked before shaking it off and smiling at the compliment. "It's quite alright my dear. No harm done." His hand came to give a few pats to her shoulder. "And Im so delighted to hear you enjoyed our little session, as did I. After all we've been trying to do that little step for a while." Her face blinked back confused and he chuckled. "Oh my dear. Did you not realize? The same dance we had just done, was the very same waltz you've been tripping over for almost a week now." ......She blinked. That was- They were- THEY SAME WALTZ!? How did she not notice that?!..She must've been too distracted to notice but again slightly jumped when he put his hat on and slung an arm around her. Still chuckling at her pink cheeks. "You did wonderful progress, just as I said you would. And I never lie. But you still need plenty of practice before the big day, but for now. Let us get back to regular work. Shall we?~"

All characters besides Amalfia belongs to @palettepainter

[builder051]

Jonestown 'verse if you're up for it.

Drugs of your choice adding up to two very high girls and whatever factor inciting a flashback appeals.

Thanks!

Not sure this is what you were going for, as it's very tame and slow moving. No big action or emeto, though both are mentioned. There is also an ED mention, and obviously mentions of drugs and alcohol.

___________________________________

"I thought this was supposed to be, you know, a date..?" Jess looks down her nose at the bottle of white pills Nat is currently crushing to powder with the handheld pill grinder. "Aren't hallucinogens more... I don't know..."

"Private?" Nat finishes, a sly smile on her face. She opens the grinder and tips the contents into the bottom of a glass, to which she quickly adds cranberry juice and a swizzle stick.

"And since when is cold medicine for grown-ups?" Jess's forehead wrinkles as Nat slides the cocktail across the table to her before she sees to making another one.

"Since it started coming in white powder." Nat laughs. "Still best to ingest, but feels a little fancier than drinking the red stuff straight."

"Ok, ok." Jess puts up her hands, then begins swirling her cocktail before the powder can form unpleasant lumps. "But, seriously. Poor man's ecstasy. For date night." Jess shakes her head. "How's this gonna work?"

"You're the one who told me to cut things off with my dealer," Nat reminds her, a little crossly.

"Yeah. But you didn't answer my question."

"See some pretty lights. Cuddle a lot. Maybe fuck around a little. Then lie back and enjoy the show." Nat grins as if all of this is obvious.

Jess shrugs. "If you say so."

Truth is, the whole thing doesn't sound all that bad. If Jess was still surly and hateful, she'd probably find the proposition not bad at all. But Nat's turned her soft a little. Whipped her flesh so what's underneath depresses under tender pressure. She might want to talk. She might want a little closeness she'll remember in the morning. But she might not want to tell Nat any of that.

"I do," Nat says, tossing crushed pills into another glass and quickly stirring in the powder.

"Ok, then." Jess throws back her beverage, focusing on the bitter cranberry and not on the chemical flavor of the squashed white tablets. They form a film on her tongue, though, and she has to use her teeth to scrape it away.

Nat's empty glass hits the table before Jess's. She's taken it as a slammer instead of a sipper, not that Jess has spent much time savoring it. Jess glances up at Nat's face to find her licking her lips and beckoning her to stand up and follow her toward the bedroom.

Jess is affronted, but she doesn't show it. It's her apartment, so she's the one who ought to be doing the inviting. Right now she's the more conservative presence, though, so maybe her inclination to take them to the sofa to watch television first would be too modest. From what she knows of the drug, Jess isn't sure how much time there is to "fuck around" before the hardcore hallucinations hit.

Once they're on either side of Jess's bed, Nat strips to her t-shirt and underwear. Jess copies her, mostly because it's uncomfortable to sleep in jeans, and putting on pajamas seems too modest in comparison.

"C'mere," Nat says, slipping under the covers and holding them open for Jess.

"Yeah..." Jess slowly wriggles in, moving quickly when she meets Nat's arms and moving into the space left for her. Nat's body is warm, and they fit together well, hips interlocking and knees passing one atop the other.

Nat presses her forehead to Jess's and kisses the end of her nose. Jess can barely keep from screwing up her eyes, for the contact is... not unwanted, exactly. Just a bit much. But at least it's not a kiss on the lips. Jess isn't convinced she won't bite. And not in the sensual way.

"We've got, oh, I don't know. Twenty minutes?" Nat brings her face into Jess's neck, placing her chin on Jess's collarbone. "What do you wanna do?"

Nat's knee finds Jess's crotch and moves back and forth a few times, but Jess uses her hand to gently stop the motion. The presence is fine. The warmth, the comfort of her girlfriend; not just a fling or a casual friend who's weaseled their way into a benefit.

"Mm," Jess muses. "Talk, I guess."

"Ok." Nat goes a little limp. "How are you?"

"Eh."

"I mean, what've you been up to?"

Jess shrugs, raising Nat's chin a little. "Work. Missions. Whiskey." Then she smiles a little. "My girl."

"You've been up your girl?" Nat giggles.

Jess wonders if the white powder is already affecting her.

"Sometimes," she answers, grinning. Then she wonders if she herself is getting emboldened by its ingestion.

Nat keeps laughing. She's gotten bony again lately, and Jess wonders if the dose is weight affected. She's starting to feel fuzzy around the edges, but Nat's bordering on hysterical.

"Chill out a little, would you?" Jess says, wrapping her arms around Nat's body and lifting her easily a couple inches away from her body.

"Whoa." Nat's eyes cross, then float back to normal.

"Twenty minutes?" Jess cocks her head. "How about... fiveish?

"Maybe I should've 'fessed up." Nat puts her hand loosely over her mouth. "I usually take the kid route and drink the red stuff. Or the not-red stuff..."

"Huh?"

"Ever heard of robocough?"

"For fuck's sake, Nat..."

"What? It's better than actual E."

"Yeah, I know, the dealer thing..." Jess shakes her head. "But do you want kidneys?"

Nat shrugs. "Body..."

"'S a good body." Jess strokes Nat shoulder to tit to hipbone, then wraps her arm around her waist. There's definitely less meat than the last time they laid together. It's not her place to say something, though. That's Nat's business, until she gets to the hospitalization point.

"Anyway," Nat goes on, a little slurred. "Powder. That's the way to go."

Jess thinks of the first time she dipped her finger into a little plastic baggie of cocaine and set alight her nostril. She'd been, what, sixteen? Too young and too fed up with her foster care situation to give the cons of her choice much thought. "Yeah..."

She knows Nat started much of the same way, as an orphaned teen, either just out of the red room or during some tenured mission while she was still in their custody. The story changes sometimes. But the progression was much the same for both of them. Uppers. Then downers. Then, well, what they're playing with now. Only the grown-up type. Ecstasy and LSD were fun to use every once in a while, as an escape from the dreaded ordinary that was their lives.

They've discussed it. As much as either of them wants to discuss anything. Similar drug habits are a funny bond. One, a few months ago, they'd once smoked crack together before a mission, then been so thrilled no one had noticed that they stopped at the drugstore for a bottle of cheap champagne.

Champagne. She hasn't had any, so that's not the taste lingering on Jess's tongue. It's the cranberry, since she's scraped away all the white powder already. Jess forgets for a moment that she's had cranberry, though, and swallows hard, wondering if she's experiencing the dregs of vomit. She gulps a couple of times, and, unfortunately, Nat notices.

"Are you gonna puke?" she asks, slipping mostly off Jess and cuddling her from the side. "Are you seriously that high already?"

"No," Jess immediately protests. "I just... Cranberry." She tries to smile. She doesn't want to go through her train of thought to get to the champagne, so she just says, "I'm used to Jack, you know."

"And coke?" Nat grins.

"Ugh, no." Jess hasn't had that either since a bad night that ended with a bad trip. When some days include killing people, including one day long ago where her actions killed her parents, her occasional forays into hallucinogens can come out with some fairly awful results. That one, where the E had been downed with her favorite Jack Daniels and...someone else's... favorite diet coke, had resulted in images of dripping blood that turned out to be very real, as she'd bashed her nose into the edge of the toilet seat and busted a few vessels.

She knows Nat's teasing just a little, but Jess feels bad. She feels burdensome and heavy, which she knows is the recipe for a night of visions she'll regret. It's probably too late now to puke up the drug; Jess can feel it penetrating her system, arranging her settings to vibrate at the ultimate sensitivity.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Jess asks, but it's pointless. Nat's already under, and there's no way to tell if she's heard the question. Her eyes are closed, and her chin rests on Jess's shoulder as her face burrows into the space between the bed's two pillows.

"Fuck..." Jess mumbles. Lights begin to flicker around the edges of her visual field. She resigns herself for whatever's about to come next and closes her eyes. She scoots so her hip is in the sideways V between Nat's torso and thighs. Her warmth is comforting, even as the vision begins to up her anxiety.

Jess feels as though she's one with the bed, one with Nat, and her body is rushing forward to some unknown location in the dark. She slips her arm between Nat's tangled ones and holds on. Nat moans a little, and Jess wonders what she's seeing. Something pleasurable, she hopes.

Jess lets out her breath and wonders what she'll see. She has a stomach full of nerves, but she fights to ignore them as she shrugs and forces herself to answer her own question. Something pleasurable, she hopes.

[rubiesintherough]

my muses who are most awake atm are:    aedus,  amara,  bren,  mahia,  melody,   seven,  zale    if you want stuff from any of these muses, just  reply to this post  and lemme know.   or you can just   like this post   for a random assortment of them sent your way.  if also a multimuse, please lemme know which of your muses you want the memes for, otherwise it’ll be dealer’s choice / left open for you to pick

and if you wanna toss memes at any of these muses, feel free. 

[ampmiscfiles]

The Webs We Weave: Chapter 30

Start From The Beginning

"You realize you've got the entirety of the Avengers and the vigilantes of New York looking for you?" Peter sneered."Oh, I'm fully aware that all your little friends are looking for Osborn." The man smirked.Suddenly, it hit.Fisk! Wilson Fisk! The rising 'star' from Hell's Kitchen. Start From The Beginning

Fisk?

Tony looked at the large man smirking at Peter.

Fisk. Where had he heard that name before?

"I truly hope your worth the time to me. I wouldn't mind getting rid of you as well, but I promised Osborn I'd leave your fate to him as payment."

"You realize you've got the entirety of the Avengers and the vigilantes of New York looking for you?" Peter sneered.

"Oh, I'm fully aware that all your little friends are looking for Osborn." The man smirked.

Suddenly, it hit.

Fisk! Wilson Fisk! The rising 'star' from Hell's Kitchen.

Tony had never really paid the man any attention as his business was pretty exclusive to Hell's Kitchen and improving it. He was technically small time to Tony, but did have promise if he decided to start expanding, which Tony had assumed he would.

Still, what business did Wilson Fisk had with Dea-

Tony froze.

How could he be that stupid?

Peter wasn't a bait for Deadpool.......he was a bait for Daredevil.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harley followed silently behind Wade and Daredevil. His head was spinning with the new revelations.

Peter Parker was Spider-Man.

The cute guy he had been desperately trying to win over was the same man he had been feuding with.

What a mess.

He glared at the back of Wade Wilson's head. Perhaps, if he had gotten to know Spider-Man and Peter before the mercenary, things would be different. Maybe if he had actually taken time to better figure out the story between Peter and Tony, things might be different.

Not that he was sure he wanted to know the story between Tony and Peter.

When it was just Spider-Man, with his attitude, it had been easy for Harley to hate him. Knowing now that it was Peter, and having spent a little time with him, Harley couldn't stop the nagging feeling that maybe Tony wasn't at innocent as he thought.

Still, Harley respected Tony. He looked up to the man and really couldn't find it in himself to believe that anything he uncovered between Tony and Peter would change those feelings.

Because it was obvious Peter didn't want it to.

He could have ousted Tony for whatever had happened, but he didn't. So either the problem wasn't all Tony, or Peter was really just that intent of keeping it between the two of them.

He had to respect Peter for it.

Anyone else might have jumped at the chance to get people on their side, but not Peter. Sure, he obviously had his vigilante friends and family, but it was also clear that they trusted Peter and left the choice up to him. Whatever he decided, whether they liked it or not, they respected it.

"You keeping up back there, brat." Wade tossed over his shoulder.

"Don't push your luck, mercenary." Harley sneered. "I'm only working with you for Peter's sake."

"Don't tell me you still think you have a chance with him!" Wade growled.

"Shut it! Both of you!" Matt hissed. "I don't have the patience to hear you argue."

Both men closed their mouths as Matt seethed next to them. Wade imagined he could see the ground smoking under the man's feet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There's no way all these tunnels will lead to where we need to be." Natasha frowned. "Spider-Man and Tony are gone. We're not all going to end up in the same place."

"We've been walking a while." Clint replied. "Even if we turn back and take the tunnel they did, there's no way we'd catch up to them."

"Then maybe we need to be thinking outside the box." Natasha said, stopping.

"What are you thinking?"

"Maybe these tunnels aren't as clean cut as they look. I mean, if I had an elaborate system of moving goods, I'd also have contingency plans."

"You think the tunnels all connect?" Clint asked, looking around.

"I think it's worth keeping an eye out for possible side routes, or even the ceiling."

"Well then," Clint grinned. "Let's put these spy skills to use."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Keep an eye out for side or even top exits from the tunnels."

Clint's voice came through the comms.

Felicia looked over at Bucky as he stopped and looked around. They didn't notice anything where they were, but that didn't mean they wouldn't come across one, or more, if they kept going.

"I hate to tell you big guy," Felicia smirked. "But I can promise you my eyesight is better in dark and dim light than yours."

Bucky raised an eyebrow and Felicia turned, making her way further down the tunnel.

"Enhancement?"

"Night vision."

Bucky stopped as she threw a saucy wink over her shoulder.

"Trust me, it comes in handy.......at the most interesting of times."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, he goes through all this trouble of capturing us in the room......and never considered the strength of the actual walls?" Luke groaned, running his hand down his face as Jessica punched at the steadily crumbling wall.

"A few more well placed hits and we'll have a hole we can get through." Jessica grinned.

"Get to it Cage. Danny and I aren't gonna do it all."

Luke smirked, cracking his knuckles and throwing a punch. The walls cracked and crumbled sheet rock busted away.

"Looking good. I think you and Rand can handle it from here." Jessica smirked, settling herself against the opposite wall and watching.

"Chop chop boys."

"Well, you heard the lady." Danny shrugged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frank Castle didn't do subtle.

Kicking the door in, he stepped into the dark inside of Fisk Tower. He hated crooked business dealers.

He hated them even more when they went after people he actually liked.

Picking up his duffle, Frank strolled down the long corridors, ignoring the cameras "hidden" in corners. So what if anyone knew he was coming, it wasn't like he had a problem playing dirty.

"Big shot billionaires." Frank scoffed. "They're either disgustingly crooked, or arrogantly obnoxious. Now, if I was an insane, serum high piece of shit, where would I hide?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony watched as Fisk circled Peter, analyzing him.

"I wonder just how old you are, Spider-Man. You've been under the red menace's watch for some time now. Long enough to make you the perfect bait for luring him to me."

"I hate to tell you, Fisky, but Daredevil isn't coming. He's not that stupid."

Tony could hear Peter's smirk behind his mask.

Fisk chuckled as shook his head.

"I think you and I both know that's a lie. In fact, I look for him to show up very soon. We already have a few of your little friends locked away."

Peter tensed.

Tony frowned. He knew it couldn't be any of the Avengers, which only left the vigilantes Peter was always with.

So much for backup.

"Boss!"

Norman and Fisk looked up as a bloody guard stepped into the room. His right arm hung loosely at his side and his left leg left a trail of blood behind it.

"We....we have a pro-"

A bullet through the man's skull ended his warning.

"Good. I haven't missed any fun."

Peter gasped under the mask as Frank Castle, bloody and grinning madly, strolled into the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Who the hell hires all these guys?" Danny shouted, punching a guard in the face.

"You're telling me you don't have a mass of evil underlings, Rand?" Jessica cackled, slamming another into the wall.

"I don't need underlings. I run a respectable business!"

"If you have employees, you have underlings!" Luke huffed, throwing a larger man into an oncoming group.

"Whatever, let's just move. We gotta find Osborn be-"

A vent falling out the ceiling stopped the group as two people dropped down.

"Starting without us?" Clint grinned.

"We hate missing all the fun." Natasha smirked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Matt stopped, an odd sound ringing in his ears. Holding out his hand, he stopped Harley from following behind Wade, just in time to watch the mercenary go flying into one wall as a hole was knocked into the other.

"Holy shit!" Harley yelled, immediately encased in the Iron Lad armor.

"Matt!"

Harley watched in shock as the platinum blonde woman and Bucky Barnes stepped into the tunnel.

"Felicia. I want to be surprised, but I'm not." Matt said with a small, but relieved smile as she wrapped herself around him in a hug.

"We have to find him, Matty." she whispered.

Matt didn't reply. There wasn't a need to.

"Where's Wilson?" Bucky asked, looking around.

"Over here under the rubble, you Sebastian Stan wanna be lookin' asshole!"

Bucky rolled his eyes, walking over and pulling the grumbling mercenary out of the rubble.

"It's not like anyone could do any more damage to that head of yours."

"I'll have you know, Petey likes my head just the way it is."

"I never said the kid had good taste."

Wade gasped as Bucky turned and walked back to where Felicia and Matt were talking.

"Lose the suit kid." Bucky grunted, passing by the still suited up Harley.

Harley glared at his back as the suit retracked.

"Let's get moving." Matt instructed. "Peter and Stark were taken in this tunnel, I'm not deviating from it."

The group nodded, moving forward.

They walked for a while before coming to a dead end.

"Are you kidding me?" Harley huffed. "No way this tunnel just ends like this."

"For once, I agree with the brat." Wade grumbled, looking around.

"Because he's right." Matt said, moving back and forth along the wall. "I can hear air hissing through the cracks."

"Are you seriously telling me there is a secret door to and out of this tunnel?" Wade asked excitedly.

"Are you seriously telling me your getting excited over something this stupid when Peter and Tony are missing?" Harley glared.

Wade ignored him, instead choosing to study the area.

Harley looked over as Felicia put her hand on his shoulder.

"Trust me, he's worried, humor is just a defense. Besides, Peter would most likely be the same way."

"Think I found the key." Bucky said, drawing everyone's attention as he pushed into a few bricks, noting the slight give.

"Suit up, kid." Matt tossed over his shoulder to Harley. "We don't know what's on the other side."

Harley felt the nanites run over him, sealing him inside his armor.

As Bucky pushed fully on the trigger, the wall began to slide to the side. Wade clapped in delight at the absolute cheesy evil villainy of the event.

As soon as the door completely opened, the sound of gunshots rang out in the area.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter watched as Frank fell to the floor as a group of men ran into the room, tackling him to the ground.

"It seems as though you didn't do as through of a job of dispatching my men as you thought, Mr. Castle." Fisk smirked, his smug expression only serving to infuriate Frank more than being caught off guard.

"Perhaps your lack of proper planning should be reconsidered."

"Of let it be the perfect distraction."

Peter broke out into a grin as Jessica Jones flew into the room, a flurry of excited punches and kicks as Luke, Danny and, surprisingly, Natasha and Clint, followed behind her.

"Osborn!" Fisk growled, "I thought you said they were secure!"

"You started without us!"

Tony's eyes widened as Wade Wilson rolled into the room, guns firing. Harley flew in behind him, repulsors blasting the equipment in the room.

More guards flooded the space, trapping Bucky and Felicia right outside the door they came through in combat.

Norman growled, rushing over to a side table and picking up a syringe.

"I won't lose you again so quickly this time, Peter." he said, stabbing the needle into the side of Peter's neck.

"Peter!" Tony shouted, struggling to break out of his bonds.

Peter slumped forward, Norman catching him as the restraints were undone.

"You just always seem to be a few steps behind me, Stark." Norman sneered, throwing Peter's limp form over his shoulder.

"Put him down or a swear-"

"You'll what? You seem to be missing the picture here, Tony. Your little band of resc-"

Norman's words were cut off as another wall cracked and burst open.

Wanda, hands glowing red flew into the room, followed by the remaining team of Avengers.

Tony had never been more happy to see them.

Grabbing another syringe off his cart, Norman stabbed his leg, the green liquid flowing in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fisk glared at the fighting as he stumbled back into the shadows. If he wasn't killed or captured, Norman would pay heavily for his failure.

Pressing a button, a panel opened up and he slipped inside. He had prepared for the possible problems of Norman's scheme tonight, and a helicopter had been stationed on the roof for emergency evacuation.

He couldn't be charged for a crime he wasn't here to commit after all.

"Going somewhere?"

Fisk jumped, spinning around to find Daredevil standing behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Norman cackled gleefully as the serum coursed through his veins. He could feel the raw power it provided, raising him from a normal human to something more.

"How cute that you think you'll win so easily." Norman grinned madly.

"Put Spider-Man down!" Steve shouted, shield up.

"You're so demanding, Captain." Norman laughed. "But I've worked far to hard to get to this point.

Shoving his hand in his pocket, Norman pulled out a small remote.

"Let's even the field a little bit."

"Watch out!" Sam yelled, pushing Steve out of the way as the goblin's glider flew right through where he had stood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony struggled against his bonds. He had to get out and help!

"Tony!"

Tony's head snapped to the side as Harley ran up to him, pulling the straps from him.

"Where's Peter?"

"You know who he is?" Tony asked, rubbing his wrists.

"Yeah, Daredevil spilled the beans on both his and Peter's identities when you two fell."

Tony nodded, looking around. He grinned as his eyes landed on the nanite encasing arc reactor, snatching it off the metal cart.

"What do you say kid," Tony started, attaching the reactor and hitting it. "Let's do some damage."

Harley grinned, helmet covering his face.

"FRIDAY, give me a scan of this structure." Tony said, as his helmet incased him.

"Tony, wha-"

"Get to blasting kid." Tony ordered, firing up his suit. "Scans show this place isn't supporting Fisk Tower, and we can't have anything leaving this lab. Osborn is keeping stuff here and we don't know what all that is. It's all gotta go."

Harley nodded before blasting off.

Tony snatched up the syringe Norman had stabbed Peter with.

"FRIDAY, give a reading."

"It's a strong sedative. From what records I still have of Peter, he'll burn through this, but will be sluggish for a bit."

"Great."

[maudlxne]

❝ Oh - don't worry about me! This kinda thing happens to me all the time! It's just a scratch - I'm fine really! Thanks for your help, however. ❞

Somebody is a bit too cheery despite having just been attacked. Yeah . . . she was a bit too used to that as well. Maybe she was getting a bit numb about it? It was kind of a lame way to get hurt too.

❝ By the way - what was that thing? ❞

@tsukinoiri liked for a starter !

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

House Edge

Title:  House Edge (COMPLETE)

Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Summary: You're on a Girls Trip to Vegas and meet a certain hunter at the buffet.

Word Count:  9,100

Warnings: fluff, flirting, gambling, strip club, private dance, mild language

A/N:  My first reader insert try. I'm thinking this is sometime around Season 7. Maybe the annual pilgrimage to Vegas when Becky whammies Sam. The majority of events that unfold will probably be right before Dean gets the text from Sam to meet up with him. Thunder From Down Under probably wasn't at Vegas yet - who knows - artistic license and all that. Also, I don't have an extensive knowledge of gambling, so most of what you'll read is from what I've Googled. If something is terribly wrong, feel free to let me know. But, I tried to stay in the vague zone.

Your head pounded and sloshed from the one too many Malibu Bay Breezes you’d ingested during the “Thunder From Down Under” show that ended minutes ago. Three of the nine others in your group were still hooting and hollering at the oil slicked row of hyper muscled, surreal Australian blokes on stage. In addition to the baby oil, the men were bathing in the estrogen overload and accolades washing over them. Wads of cash, stuffed into the glittery floss substituting as underwear, stuck to aforementioned oil slicked skin.

It had been fun, there was no doubt. But the lights and the music and the rabid female reactions were hitting you all at once. Kasey pulled you by the elbow and screamed in your ear. “Wanna get a photo with Faux Fabio?” She pointed to the long-haired blond Adonis with a shoulder span the width of a football field.

You frowned. “How much is that going to run me?”

“Shannon!” Kasey called across the table, still too close to your delicate ear drums. “How much to rub up to one of ‘em?” You were glad you weren’t sharing a room with Kasey. She’d be hurling in the toilet for most of the night after the number of Tequila shots she’d downed. So far. And the night was relatively early. Especially for Vegas.

“Thirty bucks, I think.” Shannon shrugged, paying more attention to her phone.

You shook your head. Your single status and mid-level office job already had you on a strict budget for this girls’ getaway weekend. “I’m good. Besides, the more up close I get, the more disappointed I think I’ll be.” Shannon nodded with a smirk in agreement, still staring at her screen.

Kasey huffed. “Well, Linda, Stacey and Mira are already in line. I’m going to see if I can cut!” She dashed off without another word.

Women skirted and pushed past your standing frame. You tried to become one with the table in front of you. Anything to avoid being pulled into the stampede or thrown to the ground, and mercilessly stomped on by stilettos and sneakers.

Even Shannon looked a bit miffed at the onslaught as you stared at her in a half-cry for help. “My God.” She rolled her eyes.

“Where did Cathy and that bunch disappear to?” You yelled over.

“Who knows?”

You sighed. “What was next on the itinerary?”

“I think any plans are out the window. Every woman for herself.” Shannon tapped on her phone. “My little one’s running a fever. I’m going to get back to the hotel room so I can check in at home.”

You nodded. The only thing waiting for you at home was your tabby, Tyrion. Your Grandma-type neighbor down the hall, Gladys, had offered to cat sit. So there was no one, human or feline, actually waiting for you back in your one-bedroom apartment in Albuquerque.

Holding your breath, you pushed yourself into the crowd, moving against the current towards the exit instead of the line for photos. The quadruple threat of your old college pals was screaming in line about which stripper had the tightest ass.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to have a good time or ogle good looking men. Far from it. But gambling was more your scene anyway. You had a pretty good teacher with your last boyfriend when it came to Blackjack. You breathed a sigh of relief when you shimmied out of the entertainment venue and stepped foot onto the busy carpet of the Excaliber’s casino floor. Your phone read 9:10 pm. There was still plenty of time to lose your shirt.

You’d popped a few aspirin and downed a whole bottle of water in the sitting area of the women’s bathroom, hoping to fend off a killer hangover in the morning. A quick reapplication of lipstick and you were ready to scope out a good table.

After about an hour, you’d split, hit, and stood with the best of them at one table. There’d been one experienced player, Ron, that looked like he’d planted roots in the seat next to you. He got to talking, as the old timers usually did, and you’d learned he was born and raised in Reno. You had a nice little chat with Ron and Stevie, the female dealer, and fended off a few men who sat on the other side and hit on you more than the cards they were dealt.

“That is not a bad takeaway, there.” Ron nodded when you decided to cash out.

“Thanks. Pleasure, Ron. You take care.”

“You too, pretty lady. Remember what I said about Roulette. You should try it once.”

The betting chips clinked in your plastic souvenir cup. “I might.”

He tipped you a two-finger salute. You wandered, your stomach empty. The buffet to end all buffets calling your name.

“Fuck it.” After turning most of your chips into cash at the counter, leaving one $50 chip in your jean pocket, you headed for the International food amalgamation that guaranteed intense heartburn and bloating in the morning.

Fluorescent lights and sneeze shields presented you with choices beyond comprehension. You grabbed a large plate and planned your method of attack. One of your pink manicured nails tapped on the bottom of the china. “Ease into it.” You decided to go with the Mediterranean spread first. Before you knew it, there were helpings of General Tso’s chicken, pizza, potstickers, mashed potatoes and French fries, along with some bratwurst and sauerkraut. The grumbling from your tummy may have been a warning when you sat down at the table for two, alone, on the cafeteria style floor. The waitress gave you a tired smile when she dropped off your iced tea.

You shoveled some sauce drenched chicken into your mouth and took in the scene. People floating around, getting up for seconds or thirds, talking about how much money they lost or won, what shows they should try to see while they were in Vegas. You chewed and stared at the formidable back of a man at the table directly ahead of you. He’d give Faux Fabio a run for his money. He had fluffy, long brown hair. His animated storytelling hands got your attention. You heard a deep chuckle and slurp from his table sharer, out of your view because of the mountain man. “Alright,” the man stated, “Going to give the Poker Room another go. Coming?”

“Nah.” The very deep voice replied. “I’ve still gotta hit the dessert line.” 

You watched the man rise from his seat, floored by how tall he was. And, when he turned, you saw how very cute he was. You’d have paid thirty bucks to snap a picture with this man. He gave you a sweet little smile when he walked past. You couldn’t help but look over your shoulder and take in the rest of him as he left. Smacking your lips and shaking your head, you turned back to your plate to resume the dent made in the food. Your eyes darted up to look at the man left alone at the table. You were pretty sure your mouth gaped open at the sight of him, staring at you. He wiped at his face with a napkin.

Oh my. If the man that left appeared sweet and cute with just a smile, this one was a boatload of sexy and trouble with that smirk. You could tell by the way he took his time inventorying you with care, chewing slow the whole time. One side of his lip curled up in another grin variation. He nodded at you in greeting from across both tables. You smiled back and then pretended to stare at your food. He tossed the napkin on his plate and stood up. You peeked up and noted he was layered in a couple shirts and broken in jeans, like his partner. Not quite as tall; but, still very tall in your estimation. You wondered what he’d look like in a g-string and bathed in baby oil.

And, oh boy. He was walking straight over to your table. Yep, he was very tall, by the way you had to tilt your head backwards when he strolled up. He smacked his lips, disrupting the beaming smile before he spoke. “That was my little brother you were checking out. Want me to give you his number?”

You had to lean back in your seat a bit more. “Um. No, that’s okay.” Geez, he was pretty. Holy Facial Symmetry Batman! 

He nodded, then smiled again. “Want to give me your number?”

You had to chuckle at the bravado. “Does that work for you a lot?”

He shrugged. “Works enough.”

“I don’t doubt it.” You decided to play along. “How long are you in Vegas?”

His brows rose up. “Just tonight.”

You tisked. “Not enough of a time commitment for what I’d want to do.”

He chuckled this time. “Is that so?”

You nodded.

He pointed to your plate. “Can I get you anything? I’m heading back up.”

“I think this should tide me over for a while. But, thanks.”

His jaw clenched. “Can I join you when I get back?”

What the hell. “Sure.” You smiled.

*

“Man, you almost kept up with me.” Dean sighed and rubbed his tummy after his third dessert plate.

“Hardly.” You were only working on your second serving of what might be considered actual food. A half hour had passed, you sitting with this veritable stranger. Talking about nothing of much importance, but having a grand time flirting, enjoying his rough and rugged demeanor and the boyish charm. One of your palms hit the tabletop. “I’m tapping out.”

“Not much for sweets?” He leaned in and studied you. Stunning green eyes twinkled with mischief. He batted the kind of lashes you could only get with a thick coating of mascara. “Or are you already sweet enough?”

“Is this like an Ocean’s Eleven thing?”

His smile dropped, waiting for you to elaborate. “Come again?”

“Am I like some unwitting part of a huge con job going down in the money room right now?”

He chuckled. “I’m not following, sweetheart.”

“Why are you sitting here with me?”

“Are you kidding?” He leaned way back in his chair, teetering on the back two legs. An arm swept out from his side in your direction. “Have you seen yourself?”

You pursed your lips. “Please.”

He raised a hand. “I’m not going to try and convince you. But I may take advantage. Commandeer more of your time, since you think you don’t deserve mine.”

“So you are a con man.”

He shook his head. That smile could only belong to the most skilled grifter. “If I was a good con man, I’d have more than a hundred dollars to my name after half a day in this ‘It’s a Small World’ casino.”

“It is a bit Disneyfied, isn’t it?”

A shrug. “Well, it’s cleaner than the ones near the motel Sam and I are staying at, so that’s a plus.”

The plate of food in front of you looked less and less appetizing as the seconds passed. Pushing it away, you really wanted to dig into the dessert that was Dean. But you’d only had two one-night stands in your life. Neither one was spectacular and left you full of regret that you’d had them to begin with. But this man. Oh, you had a feeling this man would love you and leave you with a million other regrets and create an addiction you’d never be able to fulfill again. What was that saying? Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. This man was surging all kinds of wants in your head. If you got a taste, you knew you were done for.

His voice rumbled like a storm cloud and pulled you out of your thoughts. “What’s up for the rest of your night?”

You grinned, wanting to tease out this time with him for as long as possible. Skirt on the edge of a pond of possibilities and drown in those sometimes sea green colored eyes. “I told you there’s not enough time if you’re leaving tonight.”

“Pretty good at completing a task quickly and efficiently.” He licked his lips. “I mean, taking my time, yeah, that’s always ideal. But, if we’re pressed for time, sweetheart, I won’t disappoint.” His brow twitched up.

You sighed, sounding a little too loud and desperate for your liking. “Does a guarantee come with that claim?”

“How much of a gambler are you?” He deflected the question with another.

“I enjoy it.”

“I might be worth taking a chance on, then.”

“Hm. I met a nice old man while playing black jack tonight. He talked about odds and luck and the house edge and why he loves cards, black jack especially. It works his brain and he can play for hours and not lose his shirt.”

Dean smiled. “So, what kind of hand am I? Soft or hard?”

You grinned at the innuendo, trying to keep your train of thought on its track.  You leaned across the table. He mirrored your action, meeting you halfway. His hands clasped together on the surface, forearms firm and locked. The closest stare you’d shared. 

Both thumbs lifted up in his grip and he nodded a fraction with his chin. “Well, what’s the verdict?” You could smell apples, cinnamon, and vanilla on his breath; courtesy of his indulgence in pie ala mode and his slightly parted mouth. He came into full focus now. Freckles dotting the tops of his cheeks and sprinkled across his nose. Lips that were perfect, puffy and pronounced. Sharp edges and soft curves. He watched you inventory him as he did the same, eyes scanning, crinkles emerging around them when he smiled and you thought he found something he especially liked about your visage. The gamblers and diners dropped away from your periphery. The piped in music and frantic sounds locked away in a vacuum, muffled and mumbling like the adults in those Peanuts cartoons you loved to watch when you were little.  

“Neither. You are in no way a safe bet. You’ve got a major house edge.” Your answer came out lower than intended. The slight mix of surprise and disappointment on his face at the answer made you clear your throat. You continued. “So, why gamble in the first place? Cause there’s always the slightest chance you’ll get lucky and hit it big. Flip a coin and see where it’ll land.”

The smile returned and he shot stick-straight in his seat. “I’ve got plenty of coins.” He began to rifle through a jacket pocket. “Two out of three?” You held back a giggle at his eagerness.

“I’ve got one right here.” You dug the chip out of your jean pocket. The plastic disc twirled between your fingers. “Wanna see where it lands?”

His eyes widened. “Big spender. What’re we betting?”

It was your turn to lean back. “Depends. How lucky do you feel?”

He chuckled. “Stakes? And, then I’ll let you know.”

You swallowed. “Well, Ron, the old man, was explaining that Roulette has the best House Edge for the casino. Over five percent in their favor that a player loses. Think you can be my lucky charm and push those odds in my favor?”

He nodded. “What we talkin’? Street or split bet?”

The man knew his games. You smiled. “Straight up.”

His head tilted back. “Whoa. That’s a helluva lot of luck.” A finger pointed back and forth between the both of you. “I help you hit the jackpot and…”

You grinned. “You hit the jackpot. Call the shots for the rest of the night. We go wherever. Do whatever.”

His lips curled into an “O” as he tried to hold back his own grin. He nodded in thought. “If you lose?”

You shrugged. “Buy me a drink at the nearest bar, share some more stories, then we shake hands and say it was nice meeting the other.”

He raised his hands. “Well, I will take those odds. Let’s go find us a wheel.” His tall frame bolted out of his seat, beaming a smile at you.

Your heart sped up. There was no way he was winning this bet. But he seemed up for spending a little more time with you regardless. And that said something. You reached into your purse to drop a tip on the table but he’d already beat you to it.

“Lead the way, sweetheart.”

You nodded and wandered from the restaurant to the massive casino floor. He towered next to your side, the elbow of his jacket brushing against the sheer material covering your biceps. He smelled amazing. When you stopped in the middle of the floor to get your bearings and looked up to ask what direction you both should head, you found him gazing at your cleavage in the strappy surplice top. The look on his face shot straight to your core.

His eyebrows shot up at the realization he’d been caught ogling. “What’s wrong?”

A flush of warmth flooded your face. “We’re using your luck here. You pick the table.”

“Lot of pressure.” He mumbled.

“Lot at stake.” You countered.

“Alright.” He nodded to the right. You followed him, weaving through the crowd, now having the chance to notice his bowlegs and how very wide his shoulder span was. He was wearing entirely too many layers to your liking. But, you got to bathe in the wake of his scent and imagine how very pert that ass was under that denim. He halted without warning and you put the brakes on your stride, inches before careening into his back. His fingers pointed three tables over. “That one.” He looked over his right shoulder and grinned, finding your body and face quite close. “Step right up.”

You took the lead again and inhaled and exhaled deep, taking the one empty seat at the Roulette table. The wheel was currently in motion, the ball spinning, holding the breath of every gambler with a stake on the result. You heard the clicking of the ball along the slots as the rotation slowed, deciding on its destination.

Dean slid his standing frame along your right. He was warm, solid. He tipped down to whisper in your ear. “Sure you wanna go for a straight bet? Making me think you don’t even want a little fun time with me. We could lower the stakes. I’d be more than happy to let you call the shots for the rest of the night.” The offer dripped out of his voice with a deep intensity, low and tempting.

You would not meet his eyes again, already picturing the sexy smirk on his face. He would distract you, make you cave. “Nope.” You responded. “All in. Go big or go home.” You pulled out the chip from your pocket as the winning number was called. A mixture of whoops and grumbles emerged from the dealer’s announcement. Chips were swept over and around the table.

He sighed and rose up, waiting for the table to be cleared and for the dealer to tell everyone to place their bets. “Okay. What number?”

Your mind reeled with the possibilities. “When’s your birthday?” You asked.

“Seriously?” He chuckled.

“Yep.” Your eyes wandered over the red and black numbers on the green felt board. The all clear was called and chips scattered in place with both hurried and tentative fingers of various betters.

“January 24th.”

“So, we could go with 1 or 24. Red or black?”

Your body startled with the pressure of his hand at the small of your back. “Black.”

“24 it is then.” You gulped and placed the chip with care over the number. It rested there alone, a single play amid a multitude of others.

His fingers tapped against your skin in anticipation. “Well, it was fun while it lasted.” He joked. “Maybe as a parting gift you’ll give me your number.”

You smiled, focusing on the slight swirl of his fingers now, imagining what they could do to other parts of your body.

“No more bets.” The dealer called and waved a hand over the table. The wheel spun in one direction. The ball clicked and whirled in its lane in the other.

You thought about what Blackjack Ron had said earlier. Roulette, straight bet odds were 35 to 1. You could view that bet as a drowning man’s last ditch effort to keep their head above the water’s surface. Hold out for that raft to save them, give them a second chance to get things right. Or, you could view it as something as simple as hope. Hope that great things sometimes happen when you take a risk. You should try it once. That’s what Ron had said. 

You closed your eyes as the wheel slowed and the ball eased in its race for the finish line. You replayed that little mantra, the pep talk you’d give yourself every once in a while in your bathroom mirror. Failure is always a possibility when you try. But so is success.

The dealer announced the winning number. 

Dean’s fingers froze. “Holy fucking shit!” He bellowed.

Your eyes jolted open. The dealer placed a tiny marker on “24 Black.” Your mouth dropped open and watched the chips stack up in front of you.

“Holy fucking shit!” Dean repeated. “How much is that?”

You blinked, then repeated the calculation out loud you had figured out when you threw out the dare. “One thousand, seven hundred, and fifty dollars.”

“Wow!” You looked up and assessed his face. He was floored and amazed, like a kid that was just told he had free reign in a toy store. “That’s… that’s some luck.”

“All you.” You grinned.

The compliment took him aback. There was the slightest hint of blush on those cheeks.

You motioned to the winnings. “Okay, grab some and let’s cash out. Half of this is yours.”

Even more amazement. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“I’m feeling generous.” You packed the chips into your purse. He stuffed some into his pockets. When you rose up, a jolt of adrenaline pushed you into a new territory of action. One filled with courage. You took your time and slithered close to his standing frame. Let parts of your body sweep along his. His brows rose higher than you’d seen so far that night. “Looks like you’re calling the shots now, Dean. We go wherever. Do whatever.”

A delicious lick of his lips followed your statement. His eyes dazzled with thoughts. “Let’s get out of here.”

*

You’d walked with him along the strip for what felt like forever. He’d gotten you a cup of frozen yogurt for part of the adventure. The warm air and pulse of Vegas fed your lingering alcohol buzz. Dean was just as intoxicating. He talked in cryptic paragraphs about him and his brother’s nomadic lifestyle. You laughed at his dirty jokes, both basking in the artificial glow surrounding you and the high of winning. But you, most importantly, let go of the decision making. 

A turn off the busy, fluorescent lit thoroughfare landed you in a much more adult amusement area of the city. And, you had an inkling, heading in the direction of Dean’s motel. You’d finished the last bit of your treat and tossed the empty cup and spoon into a nearby trash can when he stopped to read the flashing sign of a venue. 

His rapt stare forced you to look up and see what he was focusing on. The amber neon depicted the figure of a voluptuous female with flowing hair, one leg wrapped around a bright white pole. You read the name of the establishment out loud. “Sapphire Gentlemen’s Club?”

He turned to you and grinned. “Been in one of these before?”

You felt your brow scrunch together. “Well, no.”

He walked over to the glass door covered in dark film. “Well, let’s go, then.”

“Really? This is what you want to do?”

“At this moment? Yes.” He opened the door and ushered you in. “My lady.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “Are you trying to test my comfort level or something?” The question breezed by his frame as you passed.

“Something like that.” He smiled.

You really didn’t know what to expect when you walked in. A bouncer looking dude waved you in after a quick survey. Dean’s hand was on your back again, as it had been off and on throughout the evening, leading you towards the dim section of tables and booths. It was packed with, from what you could see, a majority of male patrons with the occasional token female. The tables wrapped around a few circular stages with catwalks emerging from blue velvet curtains. A dozen or so topless females danced for the pleasure of their audiences. The bass of the music rumbled through your skin.

“Here.” Dean leaned in, pushing you to a free high top right by one of the stages. Enough light spilled onto the area that you spotted the kid in a toy store look on his face again when he took his seat.

You sat across, tearing your gaze from him to the ladies wrapped around poles, bronzed and oiled similar to the male counterparts you’d been hooting at earlier that evening.

“Thought you could see how the other half lives, after that Australian review.” Dean brought up the exact same thought, only he shivered in distaste. A wave of his hand requested the attention of one of the waitresses who thankfully, for you, wore a bit more than the dancers.

“Hello, lovelies. I’m Cherie. What can I get you?” She purred over to Dean and gave you a sweet smile, dropping napkins in front of your spots. Her bare glittery shoulders and cocoa skin made you crave chocolate for a second.

Dean’s lips quirked up in a smile. You realized he’d been giving your reaction more attention than the female with big onyx eyes and raven, wavy hair.  “I’ll have a bourbon. Top Shelf. Neat. What are you having, sweetheart?”

You shrugged, continuing the little game you’d started since he won the bet.

He nodded. “Same for this pretty little lady.” The waitress nodded, about to walk off, when Dean asked, “Oh, what’s it cost for a private show in the back?”

The waitress raised a pencil lined eyebrow. “Depends on who you want the show with.”

“Are you available?” Dean grinned.

She giggled. “I might be.”

“Well, if you are, let me know what it’d be for the both of us?”

“Will do, sweetie.” Cherie bounced off with a pronounced sway of her ample hips.

 Your mouth popped open. “What?”

“Whatever I want.” He reminded you with a lick of his lips. He leaned his forearms on the table. “You ever, ah…”

An awkward giggle erupted from your throat. “No.”

He shrugged and smiled. “Thought about it?”

“Maybe.”

That made Dean’s grin grow wider. “Well, it’s only a dance. You technically aren’t supposed to touch the ladies. Sometimes, though, you get lucky. And, the way my luck is going tonight… got to give it a shot.” His fingers brushed over the top of your hand. “Get something etched in my memory for repeat viewings later.”

The touch of his fingers, light and gentle, ticklish and thrilling, hit an itch you couldn’t quite scratch. You emitted something between a laugh and a sigh. “You’re going to blow all your winnings tonight on booze and boobs.”

“Worth it. I’m getting to spend it with a beautiful partner in crime.”

You sat with him and watched the show. A country tune blasted through the sound system. The ladies all sashayed back to the curtains, flinging them back with a dramatic flair. They disappeared only to be replaced by cowboy hat and boot wearing dancers. Daisy dukes rode so high up that half of their ass cheeks bulged out. Holsters, hung loose from their waists, held fake pistols that, when pulled out for use, were done so with the most phallic inducing reminders. And all had the perkiest, perfect breasts you’d ever seen.

His fingers tangled into yours about midway through the performance. “Thank God I’m a country boy.” He tipped his head about to the twang. “So, Albuquerque, huh?”

You attempted to track the conversation and not the feel of his warm skin tingling yours. The pads of his fingers were rough and worn, gritty but not harsh. You imagined what kind of work he did to get them that way. “Yeah. Moved there after college. Got a job at a big research company. Glorified office assistant, so just the mundane business stuff that helps keep everyone employed on the books, bills paid.”

“Research?” His smile softened, listening to you.

“Sustainable energy, nuclear weapons.”

His bottom lip jutted out as he nodded. “Like it?”

“More days than not.” Your eyes widened as one of the dancers provocatively licked the barrel of her toy gun. You couldn’t help but laugh in embarrassment. “Geez, I’ve never done that with a firearm.”

Dean chuckled. “What have you done with a firearm?”

“I’ve got a license to carry. My dad taught me how to shoot when I was around thirteen. He was a big time game hunter. Back in Colorado.” You didn’t bother to go into what happened to your parents. You wanted to keep the tone of the night light and fun.

“What do you carry?” Genuine interest spread over his face now.

“Walther PPQ. But I left it back home.” You smiled, realizing he was not put off and probably carried as well. “Are you packing?”

“Oh, I’m packing,” He grinned, “but my gun’s back at the motel. Not a good idea to mix Vegas nightlife and bullets, I’ve learned.” That sounded like a perfect lead-in for a story. But he only added. “M1911.”

You nodded then asked, “Country boy, huh?”

“Yep, Kansas.”

“We could have hit Stoney’s then.”

“You would have tried to get me to dance.” He nodded to the stage. “More fun to watch.”

Cherie returned, interrupting the flow of conversation with two tumblers of bourbon. After placing the glasses on the table and eyeing the way Dean gripped your hand, she leaned in close to his ear and whispered. You struggled to make it out, giving up when it proved pointless. His lids lifted a fraction. “Well, that sounds positively delightful, Cherie.” He added with a sexy swagger. “Think you can get yourself one of those cowgirl outfits?”

She nodded. “See what I can do. Jimmy’ll come by for you two in about a half hour then.” Another nearby table called her away.

Dean grabbed his glass and raised it for a toast. “To Vegas.”

You shook your head and clinked your glass with his, mumbling. “To Vegas.”

*

The sparkling beaded fringe curtaining the doorway was a nice touch. You pushed through the strands and took in where you’d be with Dean for the next twenty minutes, along with Cherie, who was on her way. It was enough privacy for an intimate dance. Safe enough, you imagined, that if one of the women had to call for an assist from a handsy client, someone could be there in a flash without impediment. Burly Jimmy, about a foot taller than Dean, seemed to be the bouncer/bodyguard for the ladies and waited outside in the hallway.

“Really playing up the Sapphire theme, huh?” You asked Dean for his thoughts on the decor. There were two blue velvet, plush armchairs in opposite corners of the tiny eight by eight space. Two of the walls were floor to ceiling glass and a tinted overhead light washed everything in shades of midnight blue.

“Fancy.” He teased. “One of the deluxe rooms.”

The two bourbons you had milked at the table for the last half hour had sizzled your senses with a warm euphoria. Almost like you were watching yourself in some sort of out of body experience. Had it really only been a few hours since you’d seen your girlfriends? You glanced at your watch and confirmed in the spin of your head it was a little after midnight. Your brain and body were wired and alert due to the proximity of this man pushing all your buttons tonight. It was raw, racy, a revelation in facets of sexiness you’d never had the honor of being in the presence of. Until tonight.

He’d teased with playful touches; flirted with that outlaw mouth; melted you with heated stares; worn you down with roguish charm; and hinted at some heavy shit  that made you wonder how broken he might be under all that attractive armor. The alcohol had let his guard down a few times.

“Hey.” Dean snapped his fingers and brought you back. “You still with me, beautiful? I think we need to cut you off.”

You clicked your tongue and shot him with your finger gun. “Might be right, partner.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Think so.” He rubbed his hands together and spotted a touchscreen in the wall. “Huh, even get to pick the music. Real fancy.” He pointed to one of the chairs. “Get comfy.” He tapped some buttons. You slid into the cushion, trying not to imagine the amount of bodily fluids embedded in the fabric. It did smell nice and clean, almost antiseptic, so that settled one of your racing thoughts. Your stare lingered over at Dean, a pensive look on his face as he decided on the tracks. It had to be illegal for someone to be that handsome without even trying. “Damn, it’s hot in here.” He pulled off his jacket and one layer of flannel, draping them over the back of the empty chair. His simple black t-shirt strained over his shoulders, biceps, chest. The alcohol had to be part of the reason he looked so perfect. No way, you kept thinking, no one’s that perfect.

The beads parted and Cherie strolled into the room. She had certainly done what she could to honor Dean’s request. She wore the same white vinyl hot pants and matching color stripper pumps that comprised her waitress attire. But she’d gone full on country bumpkin with a plaid flannel tied in a knot under her push up bra, and a cowboy hat.

“Did you pick your tunes, Cowboy?” She flirted at Dean.

“Yep.” The wide, cheesy grin spread over his face.

“Have a seat, time’s a wastin’.” She was working the southern accent, too. Dean hopped onto the other seat cushion and wiggled his ass into position. He also wiggled his eyebrows like a cartoon villain at you. You giggled. 

Cherie tapped the screen. You were unsurprised by the country music that filled the room at a respectable volume. “Jimmy explain all the rules?” She asked and began to gyrate her hips to the song.

You nodded and replied, your eyes bouncing from Cherie to Dean, “You get to touch us, we don’t touch you. Stay in our seats. If we aren’t sure if we can, ask first.”

Cherie twirled and stopped to smile down at you. “I bet you were top of your class, hun.”

Your cheeks heated up at the flirting. This woman was obviously younger than you by at least a decade and was calling you hun. Dean’s jaw clenched at your reaction.

“So, what brings the two of you to Vegas?” Cherie turned around, giving you a full face of her curvy hips and tiny waist. The white pants almost glowed in the light and you could hear the slight squeak of material. Her moves were smooth, fluid, second nature.

Dean was getting a full face of the cleavage peeking out of her shirt as she bent down to give him a nice view. “Romantic getaway for my girl, here.” His eyes drifted over to you, past Cherie’s elbow, with a smirk.

Oh, this is how we’re playing it now, you thought. You had to admit the idea of you being his girl was absolute heaven.

“Aw, how sweet. How long you two been together?” She rose up, her hands gripping the back of her neck, elbows jutting out like wings. She twirled to look at you. She backed into Dean’s lap and began to circle and skirt her ass along his thighs. Cherie blocked his beautiful face with pink flannel. The only Dean reaction visible were his fingers latching onto the armrests like a vice.

You stifled a giggle. “Five years.” You threw out the first number you could think of.

“A lot of man to be working with for five years.” She smiled.

You couldn’t argue with that.

“Alright if I put my hands on him, darlin’?”

You heard Dean moan. How could you deny him? And, how fun that she was asking you for permission and not bothering with his approval. “Of course.” You swallowed at the intimate turn things were taking.

She lifted up, turned again. Her hands landed on Dean’s knees. “Let’s let your pretty lady see how much you’re enjoying this.” She cooed and spun him in the - surprise - rotating chair. You got an eyeful at this angle of that chiseled face and the wide eyes from his own surprise at the movement. He glanced over at you, turning serious in a second. It was like someone had turned the temperature on to sauna level in the room. 

Cherie’s actions focused Dean’s attention back to her. Her fingers and long nails drifted and scraped along the surface of his hands, forearms, biceps. Her palms came to rest on his shoulders. She climbed on top with grace, wedging her knees into the cushion by his hips, clamping his bowlegs shut with the force of her muscular calves. Her heels poked out from the chair like weapons. That ass settled on his knees. Her cleavage inched closer to his face as he settled and reclined into the headrest. 

“How does he feel?” You realized you had asked the question out loud.

Dean turned to you, languid and lush, blissed out and smiling in a lustful stupor.

“Warm. Strong. All sorts of good.” She smiled at you. “Lucky lady.”

If only, you thought.

Dean licked his lips at you, delved his gaze into Cherie’s cleavage, then met the dancer’s stare. “If you think I feel good, you should give my girl a test drive.” He unclenched his grip on the armrest for a few seconds, maybe trying to get some circulation back in his fingers. “In fact, I’d love it if you’d tell me how good my baby feels.”

Holy shit. Your panties dampened at his confession.

Cherie grinned. “Well, that’s up to your baby. Woman always gets the final say.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Dean chuckled. “I’ve gotta run everything by her, or else I’d get spanked. Can I tell you a secret, Cherie?” Dean husked out the question. Cherie nodded in interest, grinding on him now. Dean cocked a brow at the action. “Sometimes I get in trouble on purpose, just so she can spank me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that; the thrill and imagery of Dean naked, leaned over your lap with a bright red ass after some serious punishment from your hand.

“Sounds like you’re a handful.” Cherie snuggled down deeper, and dry humped him. “Feel like a nice handful, too.” She was humming along to the country tune. Just another day at the office for Cherie.

It felt all sorts of wrong and right at the same time, watching this lap dance. This teasing, edging. Who the hell has the House Edge in this scenario?

Dean’s hands clenched tighter around the velvet. “Don’t wanna come in my pants, Sweet Cherie. Isn’t that one of the rules?” He panted.

She laughed. “Oh, I’d break a couple for you two.” She slowed the torture and peeled off him with a groan that almost matched Dean’s. “We going for that test drive, baby?” Her hungry eyes scanned your seated frame.

“Um…” You began. Dean’s breathing regulated and he circled the seat back to face you. He grinned at you, peeking over the curve of Cherie’s hips, ready for the show.

“It’s okay. Anyplace you don’t want me touching, just streetlight. Only if you want to indulge your man.” She raised a brow. “But you might like it, too.”

“Oh, God, I hope so.” Dean mumbled.

Cherie did the same with your chair as she had with Dean’s. You tilted, looking at yourself beyond Dean in the mirror. How very deer in the headlights you appeared. Cherie was a veritable tigress, running the entire show.

She leaned down, inches from your face. Her fingers wiggled and she cupped your jaw. “I won’t bite.” Her sweet breath laced with peppermint washed over you. “So warm. Don’t be nervous.” Her soft voice lulled you into a safe space. “Your big strong man over there wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Would you, Cowboy?”

“Absolutely, fucking not.” Dean’s voice shot straight to your core again. You caught him licking his lips. He nodded, entranced at the vision of Cherie guiding her hand down the slope of your neck, then cupping the curve of one breast. Your breath hitched as she squeezed and her long nails dipped into the cleavage. “How’s she feel?” Another lick.

“Hm, so soft.” An eyebrow arched when she skirted over your covered nipple. “And excited. Still green, sweetie?” You nodded. Cherie tipped off the cowboy hat, sliding it over the crown of your head.

Dean rumbled out a low moan. You thought you heard him curse under his breath and whisper something close to “Ride ‘em, cowgirl.”

The arousal created by this beautiful woman was dizzying and the heat from Dean’s stare was making it hard to breathe. Sweat broke out on your forehead. Your stomach churned. “Oh.” Something else was threatening to escape as a sour bile hit the base of your throat. “Oh, no.” You mumbled. “Red, red. I need to get to a bathroom.”

Cherie hopped off and grabbed you by the wrist. “Jimmy! Need a trash can, stat.”

Dean jumped up from his seat. You spotted alarm on his face and got a quick glimpse of a decent bulge in his jeans before you groaned again at the somersaults your insides were doing. A hand clamped over your mouth as you forced down the gag and swallowed. It wasn’t going to be long before the entire floor would be covered with a Vegas buffet.

The saving grace that was Jimmy parted the curtains and slid a small desk trash can over in your general direction. Dean fell to his knees and held it in front of you. Cherie tossed off the cowboy hat you were wearing and held your hair back.

A deep inhale of the artificial lemon smell covering the trash can liner was what finally had you retching.

*

You emerged from the women’s bathroom fifteen minutes later after the whole fiasco had commenced. Cherie had been nice enough to bring you a disposable toothbrush and some toothpaste from backstage. You’d cleaned yourself up as best you could. But you were exhausted, humiliated, and planned to call yourself a cab. You were certain Dean had called it a night, leaving your sorry ass to figure things out.

How surprised, then, your face must have looked to see him leaning against the wall, Cherie’s cowboy hat twirling in his hands. He was back in his flannel and jacket, staring out onto the stage. The hint of movement by your slow trudges catching his attention, he turned and gave you a soft smile. “Hey there. How’re you doing?”

You shrugged. “I’m so sorry.” Your scratchy voice skipped over the apology.

He walked over to you. “I pushed my luck… and yours… a bit too far. I’m sorry.” He grinned and placed the hat on your head. “Cherie said you could have it. A parting gift for the both of us.”

A smile broke out on your face.

“You look really cute, Cowgirl.”

“You stayed?” You questioned.

Dean’s face contorted in confusion. “Not like I was going to just skip out on you over some upchuck. Trust me, beautiful, I’ve seen way worse.” He flicked the hat so it rose up an inch higher on your head. “So, calling us a cab or walking you back to your hotel so you can sleep this off? You are going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning.”

You tummy seesawed at the thought of a lot of walking right then. “Cab.”

He nodded and headed for the exit. “Let’s go flag one down.”

“But…”

Dean stopped, wavering in his stride and waited.

“I don’t want to say goodnight yet.”

He smiled, then sighed. “Well, I got a text about an hour ago that little brother is going off on a granola munching hike in the desert by himself.” He scratched the back of his head. “So, if you want to hang out in my seedy motel room for a couple hours, it’s free.”

You grinned, queasy but happy.

*

He’d found a country station on the motel’s radio alarm clock when you’d arrived earlier and forced you to down a bottle of water and pop a couple aspirin. The both of you were now on your third round of War. The conversation had gotten deeper as the battle continued. But there were still the light, fun and flirty moments that made spending this time with him feel even more special. 

You sat cross legged on the blanket Dean had pulled out of his duffel to spare your ass from sitting on the dingy motel room carpet. He sat across from you, back against the foot of his bed, leaning an elbow on one propped up knee, the other leg splayed out on the blanket. You didn’t think his bowlegs could manage a cross legged position and grinned to yourself at the thought.

It was 2:00 am. He showed no signs of fading, but you were struggling. Dean kept glancing at his phone but never faltered to toss down his cards in time with yours.

“Hopefully he’s okay.” You offered. The tinge of pain crept in. You knew you had to say goodbye and call it a night. It was obvious he was worried. His brother had not returned his texts and was still roaming around, somewhere. “I should go. It’s getting really late and you look ready to form a search party.” You tossed your hand of playing cards onto the blanket and attempted a slow rise to your feet. You placed a hand on the cowboy hat to keep it from falling off your head. At least, for now, your stomach had settled. The pounding in your head had lessened.

“I’m surprised your gal pals haven’t been ringing you non-stop.” Dean’s head tilted up and stared.

“I’m the last thing they’re thinking of tonight.” You hadn’t given them much thought either since the first time you’d looked at Dean hours ago. God, it felt like a lifetime ago at this point.

 “You should stay a little longer and at least see who wins. We’re all tied up.”

“We’ll just have to call it a draw.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He hopped up much quicker than you.

“Where’d I put my bag?” Your eyes found it on the little table by the kitchenette as soon as you’d asked the question. You hobbled over, letting the blood flow into your legs proper again.

As you rummaged through the contents, you heard the volume of the radio go up.

You turned and saw Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, tapping his thighs.

You giggled. “You like this song?”

“Ah, it’s pop-country. But ladies like it, right?”

You shrugged and dropped into the chair beside the table. “Where I’m from, ladies get weak in the knees for Luke.”

Dean grinned that grin you’d seen countless times that night and wished you could see for every night after. He stood up and swaggered over with purpose, in only that black t-shirt, jeans and sock clad feet. He mouthed the words to the song on his approach. Your eyes were locked on those luscious lips and how well he knew the lyrics.

Gonna stomp my boots in the Georgia mud ***

Gonna watch you make me fall in love

Dean pulled the hat off your head and slid it in the perfect sweet spot on his head. The slight tilt was sexy as hell.

Shake it for the birds, shake it for the bees

Shake it for the catfish swimmin' down deep in the creek

For the crickets and the critters and the squirrels

Shake it to the moon, shake it for me girl

Aw, country girl, shake it for me

He teased and smiled, sticking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and swirling his hips. You giggled at his awkward and heartfelt attempt at this show and the blush creeping over the apples of his cheeks.

You rose up and joined him, wanting to relieve him from the embarrassment. And, hell, you finally wanted to dance with him. You sidled up into his space, slotted one leg between his bow legs and circled your hips in time to his. That rhythm being something he easily adjusted to and was happy to continue. You looked up into those green eyes, wrapped your hands around his neck and felt his warm, safe hands glide up and down your back. The lyrics came to you easily and you lip synced along with him. It was corny, cheesy, unexpected, and sexy as hell. 

Pony-tail and a pretty smile

Rope me in from a country mile

So come on over here and get in my arms

Spin me around this big ole barn

Tangle me up like grandma's yarn

Yeah, yeah, yeah

The brim of his cowboy hat bopped your nose during a particularly forceful pretend belting of words by Dean. “Sorry.” He spoke aloud and chuckled.

“It’s okay.” You whispered, out of breath from everything he was doing to you. “I’m so glad I took a chance on you, Dean.” 

That one statement pulled you both out of the playful and flirty exploration of each other and the boundaries you’d tested. His focus on your face turned serious. And, even though the uptempo song stomped on in the background, his motions halted. His eyes drank you in, every inch of your face. His fingers danced along your jaw, curled around your neck, angling you up to him. To finally kiss you through the rest of Luke Bryan’s crooning.

Now dance, like a dandelion

In the wind on the hill underneath the pines

Yeah, move like the river flows

Feel the kick drum down deep in your toes

All I wanna do is get to holdin' you

And get to knowin' you

And get to showin' you

And get to lovin' you

'Fore the night is through

Baby, you know what to do

You’d died and gone to heaven; were positive of that fact. No man had ever had lips so soft, a mouth so determined, and knew exactly what to do with the precise amount of pressure and tongue.

As Bryan faded out, you heard the chirping of a phone. Dean broke the kiss and leaned his forehead into yours. You felt the brim of his hat on the top of your head. “Sweetheart…” The moan was a mixture of want and something else.

You sighed and knew. “Your brother.” You motioned over to the bed where his phone was. “You should go.”

He leaned down and kissed you again, placed the cowboy hat back on your head and sprinted to the phone. You did the same, found the contact of a Vegas cab company you’d put in at the start of your trip and dialed. You spoke to the weary dispatcher and repeated the name of the motel, watching Dean reply back to the text as he sat on the bed and slipped into his shoes.

“Not too far. Should only be about five minutes.” You nodded. “You can go. I’ll wait outside.”

He rubbed his thighs. “No way. You’ll wait in here with me.”

“Dean, I…”

He cut you off. “You surprised the hell out of me tonight, beautiful. You were up for everything I threw at ya.” He smiled. A genuine, heart tugging smile.

“The night could have taken a much different turn if I could have held my liquor better.”

He shrugged. “But it was still one helluva night. And, I’m glad you took the chance on me, too.” He offered his phone. “Put your number in.” You smiled and did as asked, then handed it back. He shot you a text. “There. Now, you have mine.” He pulled a business card out of his wallet. “And, here. Don’t ask questions, but if for some reason that phone stops working... call this number and say you need to get in touch with Dean Winchester.”

You read the card. “FBI Director, Mike Kayser?”

Dean raised both eyebrows.

“Okay.” You slipped the card and phone in your purse. Headlights flooded through the motel curtains. “Well, that’s my ride, I think.”

Dean stood up and opened the door, walking out into the early morning with you. The yellow cab idled in the parking lot. He waved at the driver, then turned you in his arms and stared at you hard. “You send me a text when you get into your room.”

You chuckled. “You’ll be roaming the desert like Jim Morrison by then.”

“Please.” That soft smile again.

“Okay.”

He grabbed your face with two warm palms, angled you in just the right way so he  could dip down and kiss you under your cowboy hat, soft and slow. He whispered in your ear. “I wish I could be your safe bet.”

You gave him one more peck, then walked to the cab. When you opened the back door, you turned and called out. “What would be the fun in that? Flip a coin and see where it lands every once in a while, right?”

He gave you a two finger salute and smiled that Dean Winchester grin. As the driver nodded at your destination and turned out of the lot, you watched him, standing, waiting for you to disappear from view. You held onto that grin. Closed your eyes. Committed it to memory. And hoped you’d see it again.

THE END

***Luke Bryan - Country Girl (Shake It For Me)

MASTERLIST

[thiswasinevitableid]

#1 or #13 for indruck? sfw or nsfw, dealer's choice :)

I went with 13 and NSFW: “we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine”

The concert was a bust, Duck is learning that, at the ripe old age of 24, his body can no longer stand up to a mosh-pit, and Juno had to cut out early, taking the car. Which is fine, he can take BART home.

Except there was a fucking game tonight and everyone and their goddamn uncle is packed onto the train. He dips and shoves his way in, spots the sole empty seat towards the back and makes it there before it’s taken. He sighs, turning to sit, only for a black clad figure to slip in behind him.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

The man looks up, startled, and Duck sees he has earbuds in and was staring at his phone when he sat down. 

“Excuse me?”

“That was my seat.”

“Clearly not, since I’m sitting in it.”

“I was about toFUCK!” The train jolts and he loses his balance, landing in the seat-stealers lap.

“Agh, hey!”

“Fuckin’ busted ass infrastructure.” God it feels nice to be off his feet. Fuck it, he’s staying here.

“Are, ah, you planning to get up any time soon?” The man is trying to push him off, so Duck puts all his weight into his lap.

“Nope, gonna stay right here because it’s my fuckin seat.”

“It is not! It is a public train, no one has claim to a seat!”

“There’s rules!”

“It was empty so I sat down. I have been up on my feet since four in the morning, for goodness sake, I just wanted to sit.”

“Join the fuckin club.” 

“Get. off” He grunts, continues failing to move Duck, “agh, why are you so heavy?”

“Hey!”

“Look, normally I enjoy having a bear in my lap, but not when you’re cutting off circulation in my thighs.”

“I’ll take my own weight again if you stop pushin me.”

“Fine.” The man crosses his arms, slumps back in the seat. Duck adjusts so he’s no longer just dead weight. 

“You’re really going to sit on me the whole ride?”

“Yep.”

The man grumbles something rude, shoves his earbud back in and stares angrily at his phone. Duck pulls his phone out, but keeps glancing at his new chair. The man’s hair is dyed silver, with black patches that suggest he did it himself. His ears are pierced, his glasses are dark red, there’s a weird orange crystal around his neck, and his jacket is covered in patches. Duck knows his type; some willowly gay trying to hard to seem edgy. He’s probably on his way to the suburbs on the other side of the tunnel. And he’s gotta ride in his lap for a fucking half hour.

He snorts in bitter amusement and turns on a video. About ten minutes later, he realizes he’s not watching alone. 

“Don’t you got your own phone?” He turns, finds the stranger’s head cocked in interest, still engrossed in his screen.

“Hey’ he snaps his fingers in front of his glasses, “I asked why the fuck you’re looking over my shoulder.”

“Because our positions mean your screen is right in my sight whenever I look up.” He glares, then adds, “although now I’m mostly just watching for fun. Who knew plants could be so interesting?”

Duck almost offers to share, then decides he’s not getting seat-stealer ear-gunk on his headphones. He turns back to his phone with another annoyed grunt. And promptly flicks on the closed captions in case the stranger wants to read them.

Twenty minutes into the ride his butt is falling asleep, so he shifts in the stranger’s lap. The man hisses, bumping an arm into his side to still him. 

“Stop moving.”

“I’m just--oh” he registers the unmistakable feeling of a denim-trapped cock bumping his ass.

“Jesus, man.” He giggles at how ridiculous it is; he spent half last week trying to get various guys into this position with him, and now some dipshit on a train’s done it by accident.

“I’m, I’m sorry” it’s still a hissing whisper, “it’s vibrations from the train plus friction, I didn’t mean for it to happen, so for goodness sake stay still.”

“Why? Ain’t my fault you got a hair-trigger down there.”

“You'd be singing a different song if our positions were reversed.” The voice is creeping up an octave.

A wicked thought enters his head, “Who say’s I ain’t in the same boat now?”

“Because I can see you, you jerk.”

“Eh, I ain’t all that big. Thick, but nothin’ to write home about, not to mention these jeans are kinda loose. So I could be getting wound up as we speak and you might not spot it.”

“Talking about your dick is not helping the situation.” The man is staring him down now, hunger flitting around beneath mortification on his face. 

He escalates the game, wiggles his ass slightly, “Might wanna rethink those tight jeans next time.”

“If, if nnnh!” the man stifles a moan against Duck’s neck, then giggles “if this is how you flirt, I think I might know an issue with your approach.”

“Naw, this ain’t how I flirt.” He turns, exaggerates his drawl, “if I were flirtin, I’d ask if a tall drink of water like you was in the mood for some bear huntin. Tell you I liked your style, liked the thought of you under me in bed,” he reaches his hand up, runs his fingertips along the man’s cheekbones, and from so close he sees an excited, playful glint in the eyes behind the glasses, “liked how that face is cut-diamond gorgeous.”

The glint disappears, “Please don’t tease. Not about that, anyway.”

“I ain’t.” The sincerity sparks between them without warning as he splays his fingers on a cool cheek to gingerly cup it.

“That, uh, that is, uh, I’d say all that if we we’re flirtin’.” He turns back around, flustered and wrong-footed by his own damn feelings. He wants the other man to start the game again. He wants to say he’s sorry, ask if they can start over. He wants someone, anyone, to make the decision about what to do next for him. 

The stranger obliges him, wiry arms slipping around his middle as breath tickles his neck. 

“Since we’re playing what ifs, were I flirting with you, I might say that the shirt you are wearing is very flattering.” He hesitates, and Duck realizes that in spite of being around him, his arms aren’t actually touching Duck. They’re waiting, patiently, for a sign to continue. 

Duck takes the bony wrists, drawing the arms close, and chuckles, “you did say you liked my type.”

“I did. Or, ah, I do.’ One hand pets Duck’s thigh. Keeping an eye out for onlookers, he guides the other stealthily under his jacket and shirt, shivering as cold fingers tease his skin.

“Well, uh, how do I measure up, ahehe, hey, no, was tryin to show off this bit.” He guides the hand currently petting his belly up to the noticeable muscle near his pecs.

“I know, and it is very nice” A purr in his ear now, “but I like this bit just as much.” His other hand rubs circles on Ducks belly through his clothes, “it’s all such a pleasing shape.” 

A kiss on his neck makes him sigh, and he fights to get the upper hand again, to not just melt, to make this a game again because the game feels safe.

“Seems like your dick’s calmed down some.”

“Yes, thank you for holding sti-AH” another moan in his shoulder, another high laugh as he jerks his hips without warning, “you dick.”

“Pretty sure that’s your dick.” Duck grins at him, enjoying the fact he’s still holding him, savoring how he can nuzzle his cheek even as he whispers, “sure as hell’d like to make it mine, though.”

“Is that so? I’d like to see you try.” The man practically snarls, lust dripping from every word. 

He doesn’t get to answer, drowned out by the voice announcing his stop. 

“Shit, that’s me, gotta, uh, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Getting off the train?” The man points at the opening doors, “this is my stop too.”

They make their way off and onto the platform. It would be easy to lose each other in the crowds, slip away and pretend nothing ever happened. Yet Duck keeps his pace slow and, when they do get separated, he finds his new friend has chosen the exit turn-style with the longest line, conveniently allowing Duck to catch up with him. 

When they reach the street, night air chilling with fog, Duck decides to be reckless. 

“How close is your place?”

“Six blocks that way.”

“Mine’s four this way.” He holds out his hand. The stranger takes it, grinning, and they’re off, stopping only when crosswalk and Saturday night traffic demands it.

“Almost thereah!” Duck jumps a little when, as they’re stuck waiting, the other man steps directly behind him, kneading his ass. 

“MmM, apologies, this has been tempting me ever since you sat down.”

“You were rubbin off on it, ain’t that enough?”

“That was on accident. This” he squeezes harder “is on purpose.” 

“C’mon.” Duck growls, dragging them across the intersection and to the door of his apartment. They’re stone cold sober but take the stairs like drunks, fumbling and mis-stepping as they laugh and grab at each other. 

Duck slams the door shut and shoves the taller man against it, making him stumble and bring them both to the floor. He kisses him hard, biting his lip and pulling silver hair while bony fingers dig into his back and ass. Their tongues tease together and he gets a hint of metal, pulls back.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Instant compliance as the other man reveals his pierced tongue through panting lips. 

“Damn, gonna have some fun with that later.”

“Why, why wait?”

“Because” he tugs a fistful of hair, making him whine, “you’re gonna get that nice cock out and get real hard so I can ride you.”

“Yes, ohyesyes.” He’s frantically undoing his pants as Duck stands and strips his own off, tossing them and his boxers into the laundry. 

“Stay.” He rifles through his tiny nightstand, finds two condoms and his lube, returns and barks, “legs out in front of you. 

Lean legs still half-trapped in jeans slide forward, red canvas sneakers scuffing the floor. 

“Now” Duck straddles him, tearing open a condom as he does, “you keep that dick nice and hard while I get ready. Then I’m, fuck, gonna use it like a toy.” He pushes the first finger deeper, moaning, grits his teeth trying to get the second in as the silver-haired man slowly strokes himself, licking his lips as he stares at Duck’s hardening cock.

“C’mon, fuck, there we go” he breathes deep, gets three fingers in and flexes them.

“Don’t, nnnn, rush on my account, I’m enjoying the show.” He runs his free hand up Duck’s body, purring appreciatively.

“Cute how you think you’re the one settin’ the pace.” He pulls his fingers out, grabs the second condom and rolls it down that perfectly average but nonetheless mouthwatering cock, “fuck, yeah, yeah,” he sinks down the first few inches and the other man’s head thunks back, hands flying to gratefully cup and paw his ass. 

“Oh goodness, ohyes, you, your ass is amazing.”

“Think so? Then how about you, nnfuck, thank me for the pleasure of fuckin it.” He sinks down nearly to the base, a high gasp coming from his partner when he does. Based on their exchange on the train, he’s expecting the man to tease, or maybe snark at him. 

What he gets is a desperate, blissed out expression and, “thank you, thankyouohgodthankyou” as his hips buck wildly, making Duck grunt with each thrust.

“There we, fuck, there we go sugar, now you got the idea, you be good and fuck me like youFUCK, mean it, maybe I’ll even cum on you.”

A whimper as the thrusts quicken, Duck bouncing as best he can with the angle and speed. He dips forward, kisses him messily, then switches to tender pecks up and down as face until laughter joins the moans. 

The he grabs the other man’s hair and yanks hard enough to pull some of it out, making him sob with pleasure and pump madly up into him, delivering two retaliatory smacks to Duck’s ass.

“Oh fuck yeah” Duck grins, “you like it rough, don’t you sugar?”

“Yes, god yes, AHnnnn” Duck bites his neck this time, chuckling when he hears his feet kicking against the wood floor.

“Good, I like it too.” He murmurs, kissing the new bruise before biting down on it a second time. 

“AHGOD, god, please, I’m, I’m close, I want to come, please sweetheart, please-”

“Duck.”

“W-what?” 

“My name, fuck, that’s my name.”

“Ohhhhh” the man nods, understanding, then tightens his hold on him, “Duck, please, you feel so good, so amazing, please let me cum.”

“Alright sugar, since I’m feeling, fuck, so fuckin generous, you can cum in my ass.”

Two more thrusts and a high, breathy cry signal the taller man doing just that, his whole body shaking under Duck. He’s fighting to stay upright, panting as he looks to Duck for direction. Duck grabs his left hand from his hip and places it on his dick, guides it swiftly up and down.

“Mnnff, yeah, like that, like that sugar, fuck that feels good.” 

A pleased whimper as a narrow nose and metal glasses frames presses into his neck, the man clinging to him with his other hand. 

“You like that? Like bein’ good for somethin?”

“Yes, yes, want to be good, want to be good for you.”

A pang of affection and he kisses his cheek even as he growls, “you wanna see just what you’re good for.”

A nod, and so he cups the back of the man’s head, shifting it so he’s gazing down as his cock. 

Duck snarls “That’s what you’re fuckin, fuck, good for, and goddamn you do it well, fuck, fuck, ain’t been this fuckin hard in months, fuck, shit.” He comes, dropping the cool hand as spend dribbles down their joined fingers. 

Then he slumps forward, hoping for a few seconds to catch his breath before the man up and leaves. But all he does is loop his arms around him, breathe shaky as he nuzzles and kisses Duck’s hair. So Duck takes his time, let’s his breathing recover, enjoys the feeling of fine hair under his fingers and heartbeat next to his own. 

“I, ah, I don’t wish to bother you, but could I have a tissue? I have, ah, eh, well-”

Duck sits up and immediately giggles; the man has cum across the left lens of his glasses.

“Shit, sorry about that. Here, I can get ‘em clean.”

A shy smile as the glasses are handed off, and he’s face to face with deep brown eyes, still glazed with contentment.

“Be right back.” He kisses him once. His search for a clean cloth, however, leaves him vulnerable. 

“OWFUCK, jesus Taco!” An enraged ball of blonde fur savages his ankle and his friend sits up, alarmed.

“Do you need help?”

“Naw, ow, he’s just pissed that we made a racket and woke him up.”

“Oh dear, that was very rude.” The man holds out his hand and, to Duck’s surprise, gets a headbump and a “mrrp” instead of a brush off. 

“My, aren’t you soft and lovely. You said his name was Taco?” He keeps scritching the cat’s head, smiling, as he looks at Duck.

“Yeah. And, uh, speakin of names, I, uh, I never got yours.” The admission is at once thrilling and shameful.

“Indrid.”

“It’s, uh, it’s nice to meet you, Indrid.” He holds out the now clean glasses and Indrid slips them on, before tilting his head and sitting up on his knees to look at Duck’s thigh.

“I assume this tattoo is because of your name?”

“Eeesh, yeah. Long story short, ex of mine got tattoo equipment and offered me a hundred bucks if I let him practice one on me. I needed the cash, but I was a dingdong and let him choose the design. Thought he was real funny.”

“Please tell me he did not go on to become a professional” Indrid wrinkles his nose at the cartoonish image.

“Nope. Got bored with it. Like he did, uh, most things.”

“Ah.” Indrid nods with perfect understanding and sympathy, “you know, it would take a little design work, but I could correct this into something knew, something you might like.”

“Not unless you got a-”

“License? Almost. I’m finishing up my apprenticeship at Cobra over in the city. I might even be able to swing you a, ah, shall we say, friends and family discount.”

“Shit, really?”

“Of course. Why would I offer if I didn’t mean it?” He looks up, so sweet and genuine that Duck wants to fall to the floor and cuddle him up. 

“Do you, uh, do you want to shower? With me? We’re both kinda sticky.”

“Very well.” Indrid stands, following him to the bathroom, “though you’re warned, I like it hot.”

Duck turns on the water, kisses him playfully on the nose, “I gathered.”

Indrid laughs, pulls him into a kiss, smiling all the while. 

They swap tattoo stories as they shower, Indrid explaining the designs on his arms and complimenting the realistic pine tree on Duck’s arm. By the time they’re dried and bundled in various tray sweatpants and shirts, Indrid is asking him about what he does.

“Golden Gate Park. My, that must be a master gardeners dream.”

“It’s pretty damn cool, even if I’m still just low level help.”

“You must” Indrid yawns, leaning against him in bed, “you must tell me all about it.”

“In the mornin’, sugar.” Duck lays down next to him, grabbing his thickest blanket to compensate for the shitty heat in the building. 

“I don’t” another yawn “I don’t wish to impose, I can call a ride or something, or just walk home.”

“Do you wanna stay?” Duck asks softly.

“Yes. Very much.” Indrid nods, smiles sleepily when Duck gently removes his glasses and sets them on the nightstand. 

“Then stay. Please. Fuck, Indrid, I know we got off on a bad foot but I’m so fuckin glad you stole my seat. I wanna get to know you so bad.”

“Was my seat, but agreed.” Indrid smirks as he cuddles closer. 

“That’s good enough for me, sugar. Sleep tight.”

He switches off the light and curls up in the arms of the happiest accident he’s ever had.

[ahgaseda]

to kill an empire || chapter 21

⇥ synopsis : when you agreed to marry Jaebeom, the heir to a lucrative but not quite legal organization, you never expected the boy who was once your greatest rival would inevitably become your most powerful ally...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language, recurring gang violence, mentions of drug or alcohol abuse, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

The street was dark. Night had fallen. As the car pulled up to the driveway of your house, you slid out of the backseat before the wheels could come to a complete stop. You dragged your feet to the porch, standing before the front door and staring at the doorknob.

You didn’t know who was inside, but you weren’t surprised there were no police involved. Your families handled situations like these internally with deadly private security. If protocols hadn’t changed, Jaebeom would be watching his cell phone, waiting for a ransom call or the like.

Deep down, he knew one wouldn’t come. Because he knew exactly who had taken you.

Tears threatened your eyes, but you held it together. With one last steadying breath, you stepped inside the home you shared with your husband for the last time.

The moment you entered the foyer, you could hear a number of voices speaking in hushed tones. Jaebeom’s was not among them. Following the sound of the conversation, you appeared in the opening of the dining room and your chest ached.

Jaebeom sat near the middle, his head in his hand with a glass of alcohol in the other. His hair was a mess, obviously from the number of times he had run a hand through his tresses. A dark shadow had clouded over his face and his eyes were bold red.

You imagined him in a fit of rage destroying whatever room he had decided to hide and cry in. What would have won in the end? His infamous rage or his fear, newly found when he realized just how much of his heart he had given you.

Mark, who stood watchfully behind his boss with arms folded, was the first to see you and he blinked rapidly to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Then, he called your name.

Everyone glanced up, reactions of shock and confusion filling the room.

Jaebeom was the last to lift his gaze and the sight of you, seemingly unscathed, sucked the air out of his lungs.

Before anyone could bombard you with questions, you declared, “I’m leaving.”

Jaebeom stood abruptly. That was it? He had expected you to run into his arms, because god knows he needed you in his grasp that very moment or he would die even more inside. But that was when Jaebeom finally noticed the expression on your face.

Pain.

Jaebeom had fallen in love with every part of you, but he had become a master of reading your eyes. He marveled how expressive you became. Taught for many years to hide your emotions, you had allowed yourself to be free with him, unafraid to let your beautiful face show what you were feeling.

Rage billowed in the pit of his stomach. Someone had hurt his baby. And he was ready to burn the world to the ground if it meant you would smile again.

Without another word, you turned and headed straight for the bedroom. It came as no shock that your husband was hot on your heels, chasing you down, and once within reach, he grabbed your arm.

“What the hell happened?” he exclaimed.

You yanked your arm loose, avoiding his eyes, and continued on your way. “I said, I’m leaving.”

Jaebeom recoiled, but stayed a step at your side, asking, “And where do you think you’re going?”

“That’s for me to know,” you snapped harshly.

“Me, too,” Jaebeom countered. “I’m your husband.”

You hissed, “Not for much longer.”

Jaebeom stopped dead in his tracks, clenching his jaw.

Grabbing one of your suitcases from the closet, you finally looked at him and it broke your heart. “I already contacted my family’s attorney. We haven’t been married that long. We’re eligible for an annulment under the grounds that I was coerced into this union for the sake of a corporation.”

The floor fell out beneath him when Jaebeom realized you were serious. The words coming out of your mouth had clearly come straight from a lawyer. Jaebeom whispered your name and his voice shook, “Let me fix it. Just tell me what’s wrong. I can fix it.”

His pleadings were too much. You felt your resolve wavering, but then you reminded yourself of what was at stake. Clenching your hands into fists, you replied, "Guns... Really, Jaebeom? Really?!"

The blood drained from his face.

“That’s what I thought,” you murmured, hoisting the suitcase on your bed and yanking it open.

Jaebeom watched you, dumbfounded, as you tossed different articles of clothing into the luggage, opening and slamming dresser drawers as you did so. His adrenaline was high, so high it made his ears pound. His body was in a fight or flight response.

“You can’t leave me,” he finally said, sounding fragile and small.

With a shake of your head, you scolded, “I didn’t choose any of this and I sure as hell don’t want it. I don’t want to be the heir to an arms dealer.”

Jaebeom whispered, more so to himself, “I had no choice.”

Zipping the bag closed, you added shakily, “I don’t want to be married to one either.”

Jaebeom called your name again, forbidding himself from reaching out to touch you lest you push him away again.

Little did he know it would have stopped you where you stood. It would have broken the last of your resolve. You would have fallen into his arms and collapsed, telling him everything.

Jaebeom blinked through tears gathering in his eyes, his vision blurring. His tone was flat when he murmured, “You’re really leaving me?”

You finally turned to face him and your answer was firm, “Yes.”

His eyes narrowed, almost into a suspicious glare. “I don’t believe you,” he said slowly.

In that moment you felt he could see right through you, his stare piercing your soul. You donned your callous shield now more than ever. With a shrug, you deflected, “I don’t care.”

When you tried to move toward the door with your suitcase, Jaebeom stepped in your path and demanded, “Tell me the truth!”

Anger pushed through and you were quick to shoot back, “You want the truth? After all you’ve ever done is lie to me?”

Jaebeom was silent.

“The truth is…,” you lied. “I hate you.”

Jaebeom flinched. His world was falling, crashing down around him. For a man who prided himself in always being in control, he had never been more helpless. Panic bubbled in the back of his throat. He didn’t know what to do.

“You’re lying to me,” he finally said.

You scoffed. “Am I? Wouldn’t that be a role reversal?”

“You’re a horrible liar,” your husband added, but by his hesitation you weren’t sure who he was trying to convince. “You always have been.”

“Well, maybe I’ve learned from the best,” you retorted, making for the door with stomping strides.

Jaebeom moved into your path again and held out both hands to stop you, but still too afraid to touch you. “If you’re trying to hurt me…,” he trailed weakly and you could hear him breaking.

You recognized that you and he were at an impasse. You had to be out of that house before he broke down. Your heart would never survive witnessing the damage you caused. “Let me go, Jaebeom.”

“I can’t,” he choked, dropping to his knees before you.

Now it was your turn to panic, eyes going wide at the greatest gesture of vulnerability he could physically offer. "What are you doing?" you choked.

Jaebeom hung his head in shame and lowered until his brow touched the ground at your feet.

"Stop,” you said, face tensing with tears. Never would you have imagined in a million years you would see Jaebeom on his knees, begging you to stay with him. He hated bowing, despised it with every fiber of his being.

Life had taught him never to put himself in such a position so dangerous to his survival.

You hated yourself in that moment, reaching down and grazing his shoulders for a fleeting second before resisting the urge to comfort him. Yuto’s threat was echoing in your mind.

Jaebeom rocked back on his heels at your touch, but he still dared not look at you and kept his head bowed. "If I lose you…,” he whispered. “I lose everything."

With a roll of your eyes, you spoke with disdain, "Yes, the business. The alliance. The power."

Jaebeom peered up at you and tears rolled down his cheeks. "No, you. You are my everything."

The moisture that had been clouding your eyes immediately streamed down your face. "I hate you.”

Jaebeom shuddered.

“I hate you for getting me involved in this.”

He nodded, knowing damn well he deserved that.

You sucked in a breath between sobs and cried, “I hate you for making me fall in love with you."

Jaebeom blinked. You loved him. You were in love with him. That was all he needed to know.

You could see the fire spark in his eyes. The will to fight had returned.

Your husband reached out and took your hand, rubbing across your knuckles gently with his thumb. "Stay. Please, baby."

Resistant, you shook your head. "No."

He gave one last plead, "I'm begging you."

Pulling your hand away, you strode past him and to the door. "Goodbye, Jaebeom.”

Jaebeom sat there for god knows how long. His mind reeled and his chest felt empty, hollow. Once he had run out of tears, anger replaced sorrow and he picked himself up, calling for his loyal assistant.

Jinyoung stepped timidly into the bedroom. “Yes, boss?”

Jaebeom turned toward him, face flushed, and growled, “Get him on the phone.”

Somewhere in a dimly lit study, Yuto paled when he saw who was calling him. After letting a ring or two pass, he finally answered, “Hello, brother.”

Jaebeom hissed, “You took her away.”

Yuto swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I was happy for the first time in my life and you took her from me.”

Yuto felt his blood run cold. He had never heard his brother’s voice so low, so dark. He had evened the playing field. Now Jaebeom had nothing left to lose either.

“Jaebeom, I only did what...”

“You wanna play this game so bad,” Jaebeom interjected, squeezing the glass in his hand until it shattered to pieces in his grasp and blood mingled with the burning alcohol. “Hurting my girl is going to be the biggest regret of your life if it’s the last thing I do.”

Yuto opened his mouth to reply, but the line went dead.

chapter 20 ⇤ chapter 21 ⇥ chapter 22

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[livingmybestfakelife]

Candy Girl

He didn’t want to believe it when he was told about the different men going in and out of your house, it was something that you successfully kept under wraps from him ever since he came back from France, you just knew he’d make a big deal of it, reminding you about the offer to work at the company as his secretary.

But you weren’t made to sit at a desk all day, you liked being active and out in the world, it was always your personality, being domesticated would be taming you and you refused to be tied down, if your parents couldn’t keep you from moving out the second the clock hit twelve midnight on your eighteenth birthday then no man could.

You were independent minded even before then, you did everything to keep your hustling muscle strong, when pickpocketing rich people was beginning to get tiring, you started draining men out of their money in card games, selling cigarettes, and occasionally doing things that were more socially acceptable like babysitting and hairdressing.

Still all of that also begin to bore you and your next venture was something you actually stuck with, it made you the most money out of everything else, enough to at least move out of Birmingham for good, that was where your most wealthy clients were anyway, it would save you the trouble of taking a train back and forth every other day, it would also keep you from hearing Thomas nag at you for your choice of work, you could hear f bombs and see his wagging finger already, it made you want to take back up smoking.

You continued your daily routine; wake up, bathe, get dressed in an outfit that was much more nicer than the average Birmingham woman would wear, eat breakfast and either wait for clients who lined up appointments or go to the ones who requested that you go see them, all of this went on until one o’clock, that was when you liked to have your lunch, when you didn’t feel like cooking you either went by your parents house or went to Mr. and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy’s little restaurant, because of your association with the Shelby’s they always offered you a free meal no matter how much you insisted to pay for it, if you could catch them while they weren’t looking you’d toss the coins in the till before Mr. O'Shaughnessy could protest.

Today your parents were out, your father at work and your mum at your aunts house getting her hair done, your mum left a note on the kitchen table that your meal was in the oven and should still be hot by the time you arrive, and as she predicted your steak and eggs were as warm as if they fresh out of the pan, she must not have left too long ago.

After dramatically rubbing your hands together you took the big plate out of the oven and went to get a knife and fork, “Mum, you out did yourself once again” you mumble after taking a big bite out the steak, before you could get a scoop of eggs you heard the loud banging on the door, you instantly jumped up and ran to get the spare pistol your father kept for protection in a tiny cabinet that wasn’t being used, potential intruders most likely not looking there for anything special.

After making sure it was loaded, you quickly headed to the door and peaked out of the little curtain that covered the small window next to the door, after seeing that it was only Tommy you let out a sigh of relief and snatched the door open “You wanna explain to me why you’re damn near breaking down my parents door, I thought you were trouble Thomas, was ready to pump you full of hot bullets”, you stepped aside to let him in and he angrily stomped inside, reaching around you to slam the door shut.

“Alright, seriously what the fuck is your problem?!” You exclaimed and went to go back to the kitchen, being angry didn’t kill your appetite, his attitude couldn’t stop you from gobbling down your mothers cooking, “Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you!” Ignoring him, you continued walking and put the gun away before sitting back down “I swear I will toss that food in the trash”, “And I will shoot you in the balls” giving you his signature glare he sat down across from you and kept his eyes on you “Well go on, explain yourself”, “I don’t have the slightest clue of what you’re talking about Thomas, explain what?”, “Why you’re whoring yourself” he slammed his fist on the table, trying hard not to do it again and break the table, if there was any man he could confidently admit that he was afraid to cross was your father, Mr. YLN had been more of a dad to him than his own and was a great disciplinary, the 6”5 former boxer would choke him to death if he messed up his home over something petty, so with that thought in mind he calmed himself down a little.

You chuckled and shook your head, gathering a fork full of eggs and gobbled it down “I’m not laughing YN, does your mum know about this?....AYE?!” You rolled your eyes and placed the fork on the plate, “Tommy, of course my mother knows what I do for a living, she doesn’t approve but-“ “Jesus Christ” “You don’t believe” “Don’t push it”, he hated how calm you were being right now, he had just discovered your dirty little secret and you were calm “I told you about the job YN, I told you that I needed a secretary and-“ “And I told you that office work wasn’t for me” “Oh and spreading your legs for every bum in town is” “If you’d just let me-“ “Explain? I’ve given you plenty of time to do it but you keep playing around like a child”.

His eyes were filled with worry, it wasn’t something that you seen often, he was good at hiding his feelings but you know him well enough that it’s there, you sighed and leaned forward to pick up your purse, you reached inside and pulled out a small vial filled with white powder that he instantly recognized as cocaine, you rolled it over to him and he picked it up before it could fall on the floor, “I have to deliver that to my last client of the day after lunch, for some reason he likes when I put a dash of chilli powder in it, he’s a bit of a psycho” the last part made him laugh and shake his head “I’m not a prostitute Tommy, I’m a drug dealer, sometimes it’s reefer, but my biggest sells are Tokyo, those men that come in and out of my house are looking to play in the snow not my pussy, there are you happy now?”

“Fucking hell...why didn’t you just tell me?” “I thought you’d make a big deal of it, after all it is a dangerous business, had to cut off a client in London because he had a freak out and nearly pushed me off of his balcony” he placed his face in his hands and let out a grunt “I swear you never cease to amaze me” you responded with a clink of your fork to finish up your eggs “Seriously?” “I’m hungry Tom”.

[pocfansmatter]

Butt Dials & Bathtubs

I know this took forever. I know I’m probably the only one who wanted this. I know okay. Listen hearing Will Poulter say “I just wanna give her a bath” messed me up. Like it haunts me. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t get that vape loving douchebag out of my head so here we are.

Mark x black female reader imagine.

Mark gives the reader a bath. Light smut. Slight dom/sub undertones if you squint

Words: 2662

It started with a phone call. A butt dial of all things. Mark was not one for commitment or so you thought. He was a random one night stand you met at a bar one weekend. You were still fresh from a breakup even though it had been 5 months.

He was funny and kind of obnoxious but cute so you figured, fuck it. That night led to random hook ups here and there whenever you were bored or lonely.

Now you were friends with benefits but more benefits than actual friends.

So late Saturday night when Mark’s contact pops up on your phone you figure it’s for another hookup.

“Hello?” There’s no response and pretty quickly you figure out it’s not a call that was meant to go through. “This idiot did not really butt dial me,” you sigh with an eye roll.

Before you hang up your hear your name. It’s distant and you can tell it’s not directed at you and its another male voice.

“So what’s up with you and Y/N?”

“Ugh! I don’t know man, I just want to give her a bath!” There’s a few guys chuckling softly.

“Wow, never thought I’d see the day Mark was sprung…”

“Shut up,” you hear Mark mumble and you hang up not wanting to invade his privacy anymore.

You go about the rest of your night. You eat you food and finish your movie but your mind keeps wandering back to Mark’s words. It seems so intimate and soft. A bath of all things. You get ready for bed and take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. You bite your lip and think about calling Mark to come over but remember he sounded like he was slurring a bit. He’s probably drunk and you can only deal with drunk people when you’ve been drinking yourself. You decide against it and go to sleep for the night.

_____

“R u busy today?” Mark squints against the brightness on his phone.

He really regrets those shots now.

He re reads the text then checks the time 11 am. Why was Y/N texting him so early?  Usually they never talk unless it’s dark out.

“No, what’s up?” It takes him a moment to answer because he’s still waking up. He gets up to find some water while waiting for her answer.

“Come over @ 2” is the only reply he gets.

He has a moment where he thinks he should question you but decides against it. So you want an early afternoon hook up instead of late at night, doesn’t bother him.

___

You get a knock on the door right at 2, he’s punctual you’ll give him that.

You open it to find Mark wearing a long sleeve blue shirt and jeans. He no doubt gives you a confused look at your own attire, a robe and nothing else.

“We’re getting straight to it then?” He asks when you let him in and you giggle softly to yourself.

“Not exactly,” he follows you into your bedroom and sees your bed littered with things.

You watch his expression as he scans the items. His face doesn’t lose the confused expression as he scans the various items you laid out: multiple candles (both unscented and scented), different colored bath bombs, wash cloths, bubble bath soap, and towels.

“Dealers choice. Today you’re gonna give me a bath.” You say coyly as you walk into the rest room and sit on the bathroom counter waiting for Mark.

Your heart races, the ball was in his court. All your other encounters were you in charge. You taking the reigns and Mark being happy to go along for the ride. This was an important moment, giving him control, letting him be in charge of what happens. This was extremely intimate and it’s very possible he could turn tail and run out of your apartment if he wants. You close your eyes as you wait for him to make his decision.

You only open them when you hear his footsteps coming close. Mark is at the entrance hands filled with two unscented candles and one lavender scented one (good choice), a wash cloth, a pink bath bomb, a small drink pitcher from your kitchen and the fluffiest towel you own. Its silent as he places the items on the counter beside you he starts to arrange the candles to his liking around your bathroom. Once he’s happy with them he plugs the tub and turns the water on and adjusts the temperature to his liking. 

“Can you test this and tell me if it’s okay?” His refers to the water in a gruff voice. You take a deep breath not wanting to give away how much it effects you before sliding down and walking to the tub. You touch the water and nod approvingly. He nods a little shaky and you place your hand between his shoulder blades.

“Breathe,” you remind softly and feel his lungs expand beneath your hands a few times. It seems to ground him as he goes to arrange his other items.

Finally the tub fills and he shuts it off looking to you.

“Before we do this, two rules,” you start and he nods expectantly “number 1, do not get my hair wet, I’m sure I don’t have to explain that black girls don’t like their hair wet,” you had done your hair into a french braid and wrapped it in a head scarf to make it harder to mess up. “And 2 you’re in charge here today, don’t make me regret it."  He takes another breath.

"Yeah, sounds reasonable…” you smile and untie your robe. His eyes scan your body once you take it off and hang it on a hook beside you before looking at Mark with one raised eyebrow. “Step into the water,” he says once he catches on. You do as told and watch him pull his shirt over his head so he doesn’t wet it. He tosses it into your bedroom before walking over.

Your eyes scan his torso, he was pretty fit even if it wasn’t that noticeable in his clothes. You seen him naked enough to know better. “Carefully sit down now,” his voice still had that gruff edge and you were lying if you said it wasn’t doing something to you.

He grabs the lighter you left on the counter and lights the candles as you get comfortable.

The water reaches your shoulders and you lean your head back waiting for him to come over. He gets on his knees beside the tub and drops in the bath bomb he picked out.

You groan as the hot water relaxes you further and watch the water change colors to a simmering pink.

Mark stands up and walks behind you. He starts massaging your shoulders and you groan at the firmness of his fingers. They were one of your favorite traits about the man. You let you head lull to the side as he works out a knot. His lips press a kiss on your neck and you shut your eyes at how soft it feels. Then he stops and his hands slowly slide over your chest as you groan softly. He takes a breast in each hand and squeezes while the pad of his thumb goes over a nipple each. You gasp softly and he goes back to kissing on your neck. His grip gets firmer as he starts to bite and suck your neck and you have a fleeting thought about having to get rid of the hickies before work. One hand wanders lowers and your breath comes out jagged when it reaches your lower stomach. Just below your belly button he creases the skin back and forth but doesn’t go lower like you had hoped. He removes his hands all together and you open your eyes again to see him walking to the other side of the tub. He picks up on of your legs and starts to rub your feet. You feel your upper body lower more into the water in relaxation. You watch him with hooded lids. He’s so focused at the task at hand but still scans your naked body in lust. It doesn’t take long for him to switch feet.

Mark must decide the massage part was over with because he grabs a wash cloth and wets it. He pours some of your coconut body wash on it and rubs it together to lather it up. He goes back to the head of the tub.

“Sit up.” He commands. You do as told and he rubs the soapy wash cloth over your back. He walks to the side on the tub & rubs the cloth down your right arm slowly ending at the tip of your fingers before moving to the other arm. He moves lower before picking up your right leg and draping it over the side on the bathtub so half of it falls off to the side. You gasp softly at how spread your legs are but don’t say anything. He slowly lathers your legs. You watch his large hands creep up your thigh slowly in soft circular motions. You breathe in deeply when his fingers get close to the one spot you really want them but he pulls away before he gets there. Mark was a full on tease at this point. He leans over and grabs your other leg and you try to lower the first leg back into the water. It doesn’t make it very far however before he’s grasping your ankle. “Did I tell you, you could put your leg back down?” His eyes bore into yours and you bite your lip at his assertiveness before shaking your head no. “Speak,” he orders while rubbing circles into your ankle. You’d be lying if you said this wasn’t doing things to you.

“No Mark”. His eyes sparkle at the roughness of your voice showing him just how much this was effecting you too. “Then keep it here,” he softly squeezes your ankle to show you not to move it from where he first placed it before going back to your other leg. He props that one against the wall and the other edge of the tub you blush at the fact that you’re spread eagle. He washes the other leg in the same fashion. He stands and comes back to the head of the bathtub. “Lean back baby,” he commands and you listen. He rubs the washcloth between his hands causing them both to be soapy before lathering up your chest. You arch your back when he pays extra attention to your nipples. He kisses your neck and your eyes shut.

“God baby, you should see yourself.” You moan at his voice right in your ear. “Spread out and arching so pretty for me, fucking perfect.” He ends the sentence with a soft bite on your ear lobe & you can’t stop the groan that escapes. 

“Mark,” you breathe softly. You’re asking for something but you don’t know what. This whole experience is nothing like your past encounters with the man behind you, hell this is nothing like anything you’ve done before to be honest.

“Shh, it’s okay sweetheart I got you, just relax,” he speaks calmly before sucking your neck and continuing to rub the front of your torso.

Mark was like a whole different person today, he was a good fuck but kind of timid. He came off cocky in the bar and around others but once you get him alone you can quickly see through his façade. He hides it well but its in the little things. The hesitations, the shaky hands, the nervous glances. This Mark though, he was steady and in control and you felt like you were boiling over with lust. He gives you another peck before pulling away. You open your eyes and see him coming back with the pitcher. He fills it with water from the bath and pours it over you right under your neck to wash the soap off. “You can put your legs down now,” he says and you do as told. He drops the pitcher on the floor and gets back on his knees in the middle of the bath beside the tub. You watch him waiting for what’s next. He leans close and kisses you softly. You let out a tiny moan. Your whole body feels sensitive for some reason. Like you’re an exposed wire and anything will cause a spark to ignite. He swipes his tongue on your bottom lip and you immediately let him in. Mark has always been an amazing kisser, his lips were so full you could kiss him for hours and not get bored. Not that you guys really did that. It seems too coupley for you two.

Your vaguely aware of movement in the water but his lips are too distracting to figure out what it was. Finally you feel his fingers and you gasp. His middle finger swipes your folds and your knees bend and spread automatically to give him more room to touch you. He deepens the kiss as him rubs your clit. Your hands make your way to his neck as you hold onto him. He inserts two fingers inside of you groan. Once he starts to pump your head falls back to rest on the tub. Your hear Mark chuckle faintly and feel him kiss your chin before attacking your neck again. He’s a little more aggressive than before because now he’s full on biting you but as long as those fingers keep moving you don’t care. He curls them just so and your hands involuntary tangle in his hair as you moan his name. God you loved his fingers, you could write fucking sonnets about them at this point. They were so long and so so good to you. He pulls them out and rubs your clit again & goes back to kissing you. His tongue massages yours as he slowly pulls his hands up out of the water. You whimper at the loss but Mark never ceases the kissing to hear you complain. He finally slows down into little pecks and you fully relax again.

He unplugs the tub and you lay there as the water washes down the drain. He stands and grabs the towel before facing towards you again. “Stand baby,” you do as he says and he gently dries your body. You’re in a comfortable daze when he’s done. Once he’s satisfied your dry you wait for him to tell you to step out, he never does, instead he picks you up bridal style and you gasp softly but wrap your arms around his neck and hold on. He carries you into the bedroom and sits you on the edge while he clears off anything you left on it. He then finally gets rid of his pants and pulls the comforter back. Before beckoning you to lay down. You slept naked before, especially when Mark’s over so it doesn’t bother you too much to do it again. When you’re under the covers Mark slides in beside you and pulls you in to cuddle. 

He lightly creases your arm with his fingertips and your eyelids get heavier and heavier at the action.

“Was it good for you?” Mark whispers almost afraid to break the calm air around the room.

“Perfect, how was it for you?” You hope he enjoyed himself. This was his idea after all.

“You have no idea how amazing today was,” he answers.

“I think I might,” you chuckle and he looks down at you with one raised brow. “Umm you accidentally butt dialed me last night and I heard you mention wanting to bathe me.” You confess and he groans in embarrassment.

You give a full laugh at his antics before leaning up and kissing him.

“Let’s just get some sleep okay?” You suggest and he nods.