#【 lost light. 】 — ❝ set the silence free to wash away the worst of me. ❞

[rifleseye]

@rodismancave said.

i didn't realize i drank that much.

prompt.

the celebrations got out of hand — they tend to do that often, so it's to be expected. he had only the one drink himself, so he wasn't as affected as some of their other crewmates. like his captain, for example, who he is currently helping through the corridors of the lost light.

there's a mildly amused glint in his eye when rodimus complains. " captain, if i may, i must suggest more due diligence when it comes to these events. otherwise, you may have to rely on a more... quidnunc individual than i. "

[rifleseye]

— Perceptor tries not to snort at Nautica's assessment of his team being nice. Though that's probably a result of his own position as their Director. Being a "hard-aft" (as he has been so crassly described) and the boss to an eccentric sort who laughs in the face of ethics is bound to lead to friction. But someone has to keep them in line and he was more than up for the t—

His line of thought is cut short when the lights flicker off.

Oh. Oh dear. She's a button pusher. Okay. That's fine. He can work with this. He steps forward, meeting her at the terminal and waving her off for a moment as he skims the list briefly to ensure nothing else of something more vital was accidentally flipped.

" Ah... Let's... leave the diagnostics menu alone until I can walk you through what everything is. How does that sound? " He has no doubt she'd be able to figure it out herself in time as he had, but he'd rather not risk anything while they're still docked.

His vocalizer audibly resets as he steps away from the terminal again. " There's still a few more places you should know about before that, however. I'll show you where the probe launch commands are next. "

   There's very little time between when he gives her the okay and when she starts her little jog to the other end of the platform. Well, it was more like a... clumsy frolic rather than a proper jog. Still, she was obviously very enthused, and eyes all of the terminals and keypads that were now at her servos with saucers for optics. Where to start?    " Communal lab work? That won't be a problem, I've only ever worked in settings like that. " she responds as she flips up the main terminal, keyboard taka-taka-taka'ing all the while, " Plus, everyone that I know to be on the team seems super nice, so it'll be fun! "

   If your idea of fun was getting in between heated ego-fueled debates, then sure.

   There's a series of soft mechanical whirrs as she flips through each of the main terminals; Different generator stacks responding to her light prodding. She had no intention of bringing anything fully online, make no mistake, but she couldn't resist a little bit of exploration. Eventually, she flips up the leftmost terminal and almost instantly gasps in surprise.

   " Sweet Solus, the diagnostics menu this terminal has is massive! I guess it makes sense, but it feels like it goes on forever! Wait, does this also control the overhead lights- " Boop. For a few moments, the room is plunged into near total darkness, before she scrambles to turn them back on, " Oh gosh, my bad! "

   Take it away from her already, while there's still time.

[littlefreya]

Prince Of Darkness

Summary: There'll be no escape tonight, the devil always gets what he desires.

Pairing: Devil!August Walker x Unnamed OFC (3rd person pov)

Word count: 6k

Warnings: 18+, DARK! NonCon, kidnapping, stalking, breeding, exhibitionism, loss of virginity, supernatural stuff, sex in a cathedral, mention of heaven and hell. Please proceed with caution. 

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: I have put a lot of effort into this story, and I’m really anxious af. We all like to see August as a demon, but I decided to go all the way... And I’m nervous at your response and going to die after hitting submit. So bye.

Many thanks to the love of my life @agniavateira​, for support, brainstorm and beta. And to @crimsonrae​ and @wondersofdreaming​ who held my hand. 

Please give feedback and reblog if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

Title: Prince of Darkness

Blood painted the streets, courtesy of the blinding scarlet lights that danced upon gravel and tar before dwindling into darkness. The soft, beaming glow pulsed with the muffled beats of a monotonous song that played inside the luxurious nightclub. Like thundering war drums, it rumbled in the ears of the elegant man who stood along the shadows. 

Leaning against the cement, he took a sip from a glass of spiced Bordeaux and brushed an index finger over his thick moustache to wipe away misguided droplets of wine. 

‘How could anyone enjoy this abomination?’ He wondered with a guttural groan, never quite grasping this electronic noise thing; but then again August was older than this music, and his tastes far exceeded cheap and trivial antics. He was a man driven by the appetite for destruction and forbidden delights, and tonight, he was finally about to obtain both. After decades of anticipation, the succulent fruit was ready to be plucked. 

Oh, what an intoxicating and delicious mist his unsuspecting beloved emanated, setting his heart aflame with her sheer ripeness.  

‘It’s been so long, so painfully long.’ 

Time had lost its meaning as he waited, curving and swerving into a stream of an infinite river flowing with decay and death. 

But as the old saying went: all haste comes from the devil. 

So the man lingered against the wall, a sparkle enkindled and crackled in his eyes, morphing into black wells whilst the waves of her honey-liqueured ambrosia grew pungent, seeping through his airways and sinking in his throat. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, revelling in the sound of harsh tapping heels that echoed louder with every step until she came summoned into the naked wilderness of the city street. 

‘Beautiful and innocent as the garden of Eden. Of course, of course...’

The stranger scrutinised the young woman with another sip from his wine and a bite of great intrigue - but stoicism and silence, for now, were his most valuable allies. 

Clad in a lithe black dress and a stylish leather jacket to keep herself warm from the chill autumn breeze, she fished for the mobile device in her purse while distress washed her wrinkling brow. Illuminated by the bright screen, her face sulked as for the seventh time in the last 30 minutes, her attempt to find an Uber bore no success whatsoever. 

Was there something about tonight that all drivers were kept occupied, or had her luck simply run dry? 

Showing her face to the moonlit sky, she sighed in great frustration. This must have been fate’s retribution to a mindless bad decision; she should have left with her friends, but staying alone to fruitlessly catch the eye of the uncaring bartender seemed more significant as the buzz of alcohol dimmed any ray of logic. Now deep into the night, walking home alone didn’t appear to be the most sympathetic solution, yet it occurred to her that there wasn’t much of choice.  

“You seem distressed.” 

Equal to a dark chant sputtering words of witchcraft, the low yet incredibly soft baritone of his voice slithered from the corner and crept down her spine with icy scales. A lurching hollow flared within her gut, her neck seized by the tight grip of a serpentine phantom. 

His vibrato sounded like a voice that called her through a dream she never had before; despite the unsettling arctic spasm gyrating through her shaky limbs, it lured her to return a stare and meet the cryptic face behind the seducing chant. 

Two sharp glaciers glimmered at her as the stranger sauntered into the penumbra, momentarily lit by another flash of neon red that broke onto his face and highlighted his ethereal features. Her lips drew open, her nipples hardening against the fabric of her dress as a shiver ran through her. To say that the stranger was handsome would be an understatement, as it almost seemed as if he was ‘designed’ by a sculptor - carved cheeks led a path to slightly pouted lips, and a stark, dimpled chin was shadowed by dark stubble. His chocolate-brown hair was elegantly combed to the side, with a couple of large lustrous locks gently nestling over his brow.

Though it wasn’t his good looks that left her riddled with prickly goosebumps, but the unprecedented magnetic haul that made her feel as if she was physically drawn toward this mysterious man. 

Frightened by the unbidden reaction of her own body, she quickly retreated to gawk at the phone and provided no answer to his inquiry. A strange yearning to submit grew between her clenching thighs, a primal response to his striking looks and charms. 

But she killed the seed before it set roots in her flesh. 

‘They said Ted Bundy was charming as well…’ she mused. Frivolous as she wanted to be, getting murdered was undoubtedly not among her plans tonight. 

Revelling in her silent reply with an arched brow, he tilted his head when a blinding flicker abruptly caught his keen eye. Kissed by the pale moonlight’s beam, a small silver cross rested upon her collarbone. His sharp fangs begged to peek with sardonic amusement, but he kept his lips clamped, not wishing to scare her too soon. 

There was to be plenty of that later...

“May I offer you my help, sweetling?”

Threading his long fingers between the smooth stem and clasping them around the bowl, he lowered the glass to the side of his hip, dragging the girl’s unwilling eye to the healthy bulge in his groin. 

Her lips drew open as a surge of staggering heat flushed at her apex. 

It seemed enormous... 

“Name’s August, like the emperor, but you can call me whatever your heart desires...”

Embers burnt at her cheeks; in her belly, the odd mystical calling continued weaving at her core in an urge to accept whatever it was he had to offer. Her eyes warred to tear her gaze away from his nether region as her lashes fluttered to meet the abysmal glance that bestowed both frost and fire through her tendons. 

There was something archaically familiar about this man as if she knew him before the days had names. Yet she swore, it was the first time she ever saw his striking face. 

“I can take you wherever you need to go.” 

Breath laced with wine titillated her nostrils as the words spilt from his lips, whilst another crimson ray broke upon the marble of his face. Never had he urged, but instead suggested with a tongue soaked with honey. Still, a blazing aura of danger encircled him. And even though the very natural fear of walking home alone grappled her, it still seemed like a much better plan than entrusting her life to a stranger who was twice her size. 

Deciding to keep her tongue knotted, she turned and began striding away. ‘Best not to engage him,’ she thought, but once she moved past his bulky figure, her heart suddenly picked up its pace and her legs refused to function as if they no longer belonged to her. 

Seconds stretched into eternity. The thought that this civilised savage will assail her and drag her into the night scratched at the back of her head. But the worst of it was the simmering throb. Unforgiving, like gathering storm clouds, it thundered the closer she walked by him and then gradually died out as she finally managed to move away and free herself from this invisible bond. 

Savouring the final drop of wine, August watched amused as the frightened little lamb quickly oscillated on her feet, scampering into the horrors offered by the dark. It was funny how fear made animals act so heedlessly and rush straight into the burning heart of peril. 

A toothy grin peaked his chiselled cheeks. Always the gentleman, he shifted from the concrete, discarding the glass carelessly to shatter on the sidewalk. His sinew stretched in a relaxed ripple of an apex predator before he straightened both vest and jacket and stroked his thick moustache. 

Though her heavenly fragrance still soaked the air, the girl was already gone from normal eyesight. It was a pity to see her leave, yet there was no need for him to rush.

There was never really a choice for her. 

Strangely, the night kept growing unnaturally darker. A great ocean of blackness and crystalised stars spread from above, casting looming shadows across the tall buildings that resembled a maw filled with rotten teeth. The tepid wind that blew between the vast concrete monoliths was nothing but the breath of a mythical beast intoning her name through the shadows.

Clawing at her forearms, she meandered through the inert street with a wary eye. Desolate neon signs flickered hauntingly, bequeathing a vibrant beacon of dread over the shimmering, onyx road. Not a living soul was in sight as if the world descended into stillness, dominated by an eerie, dead silence save for the harsh echo of her hasty heels. And yet, the long path felt anything but lifeless. With every step landed on the ground, she could sense the movement beneath the surface: swarming vile things, slippery and scaled. Unseen by the human eye, they hissed dirty little secrets and slithered with sinister hunger, drizzling down their fangs. 

‘You can already feel me inside you, can’t you sweetling…’ Remaining hidden, he had to admit that watching the little lamb leap shivering into the slaughter has been somewhat of foreplay.

A veil of fumes emitted from her parted lips. The air became colder, summoning a terrifying truth that made her lungs clench around the black void that abruptly filled them with the notion that maybe... maybe… that chill, liquid-like thing that threatened to touch her ankle wasn’t just in her crazy imagination.

There was something out there, something undeniably familiar. This unusual gust of wind brushing at her nape has accompanied her since she could remember herself, an unsettling breeze bidding that evil lurked between the creases, holding its sinewy fingers clasped together while waiting for her to answer his hushed calling.

‘And once you finally answer, there is no turning back…’ 

Fear gnawed its frosty fangs at her bones, puncturing tiny painful cavities that were needles in her flesh. Tonight, of all nights, the same hazy feeling became stronger than ever before. Deep inside, she knew she would meet her end. Pressing the oily pads of her fingers at the sharp corners of her pendant, she inhaled and chanted a prayer, refusing to succumb to the noxious malice when a frozen pin pierced her heart.

Like the lark calling on the dawn, an unbidden chant carried her name.

Drenched with frigid sweat, she exhumed a shuddering breath, praying to God that it was only her imagination playing tricks on her ears. 

‘The greatest trick he ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.’

Indeed in the darkness, leered the beast. All teeth and malicious glee, August moved from one shadow to another, feasting on the aphrodisiac that was the mixture of her harrowing terror and unveiled desire. If only she knew the trail her scent left for him to follow - he could smell her from miles away. 

The little flower between her legs began blooming the moment their entities finally encountered one another, and it was his ancient name her dew had dripped for.  

‘My sweet little thing, tonight I will finally grant you a purpose...’ 

Like a hound awakened from a deep slumber, he flexed his bulging muscles and tailed her in utter silence. The same spell that burnt in her core seethed the blood gathering in his ardent loins. Since the dawn of humankind, he had more women than any other man on this earth, yet none has evoked such hunger in him. 

He would have eaten her alive and torn her to shreds if only he didn't have bigger plans for her.

Still hidden by the unnatural night, August stalked from behind, the blaze of his enkindling burn licking her path as he crept further to ensnare his prey. He wished she could see herself through his own flaring glance, how beautiful she was with tears of despair rolling down the tender slope of her cheeks. 

His beloved girl; his, by ancient law. Spirited as a rageful tempest, she insisted on escaping her prophesied fate. Muscles and bones strove against the panic that turned her boiling blood frigid. But no power, physical nor divine could revoke this otherworldly attraction that bound her to him. His bidding could never be undone and as much as his blood relished from the thrill of the chase, it was time to put an end to this dance and seal their union. 

Appearing from a stygian haze of a spectral nightmare, the beast drew his claw to grasp the fleeting girl’s shoulder.

The world froze along with the scream that died in her throat. Cold, slippery wet, the phantom serpents slinked around her ankles and held on to the ground as the thing behind her bit his nails into her collarbone. His touch was no ghost, but as real as the quiet moon that voyeured her fate from above and did nothing. A wretched gasp of anguish shuddered through her airways as his fingers stalked forth to cinch at her neck. 

His grip was tighter than the icy finger of death, yet its caress was the sensual lick of a gossamer tongue. 

It was almost as if he worshipped her. 

Shadows befell her as the assailant leaned close, wafting a mist of intoxicating fumes scented of poisonous elixirs and an ancient forest that laid deep between the veils of the underworld, hiding forbidden mysteries that none dared speak of. Seeping through her orifices, it stung her eyes and raked remorseful tears. 

“Please…” she broke into sobs, shaking her head at the dawning of her fate.

The man inhaled deeply. Though she could not see him, the joyful malice that danced on his pleased breath roared in her ears.

“Do not fear me.” The sonorous rumble caressing her ear was hardly a surprise in its familiarity.  It was him, the handsome bewhiskered gentleman from earlier. But of course, it was always him: the whisper in the dark, the slithering things moving beneath the tepid ground, and the smell of burning pyres. 

But who the hell was he?!

As if he read her mind, his hand twisted around her nape and with a careful sway, turned her to face him. The voice inside her head warned her over and over again not to look at him; yet the temptation was too great, peeling her eyes open to stare at the thing that made her heart drop to her gut.

Vast, raven wings spread from each side of an Adonis figure, their intimidating length denying her widened eyes to look at anything but the dark god that soared tall in front her. No, not a god, a devil. A pair of small golden horns peeked from the mane of long curls, and the heavenly icy gaze she remembered from earlier had melted into an abysmal lake of fire.

He was beautiful.

He was monstrous.

And just like that, she descended from the earth, swept into a thick swamp of darkness that swallowed her whole. Never letting so much as her feet kiss the ground, August scooped her into his strong arms. Peering down upon her, he broke into a delightful grin, already enamoured with his delicate new bride. The pang of lust tingled in his groin, though despite the raging need to claim her now, it was her screams he desired more than all as he would consummate their eternal marriage. 

Wicked tongues of fire licked up the shallow air, casting a faint amber glow into the abominable sombre of a vanishing nightmare. Shy as feral nymphs, the bursting sparks ascended melancholily, whispering tales of perishing days that fell to harmony with a strange mumbling chant. Still locked in a void of unconsciousness, the fallen girl shifted with disquiet, her hands restlessly clutching at a virginal silk gown that covered her body. 

Vaguely remembering a horrifying dream of a demonic entity, she woke with a sudden electric jitter. A peal of breathless pants pushed through her heaving chest before she slumped into the intense relief one experiences from a brush with either death or a ghastly fantasy. 

“Thank God…” she whispered with a fist pressed to her breast.

Yet, something was amiss. The low vocal melody continued despite her state of clarity, tangled with the eerie presence of a hundred cutting glares that stabbed her crawling spine. Slowly and carefully, she lifted her head and scanned her surroundings. 

The blood drained from her face.

Swaying like shadowy wraiths stood men cloaked in black velvet hoods. Tears of milky boiling wax trickled from the candles held by their stringy fingers, yet they didn’t seem to flinch as the burning rivulets seared their flesh. Their hollow eyes were fixated upon her while words of a dark sacrament sputtered from their lips and reverberated through the endless archways and ribbed vaults that towered above them. 

Her trembling muscles were briskly stifled under the unsettling realisation of her whereabouts - a cathedral, a thousand years old if not more. Burning torches lit crumbling pillars and statues of monstrous winged creatures that encircled them from every niche, their malicious shadows dancing upon dusty obsidian bricks. Unglazed windows were barred by black iron, the beautiful floral shapes preventing any means of escape. 

Only the fractured ceiling held a cheap shred of hope, as a vast rupture of broken stone exposed her to the scarred carmine wolf-moon.

If only she had wings…

Bones rattling beneath her crawling flesh, she sat upon the hard surface with wells of despair. Her hands clutched around the edge of the bed, only to be kissed by the sharp corners that pierced the delicate flesh. Hissing with pain, she lifted her arms and stared below at what appeared to be a midnight-black marble creased with golden veins and saplings-like patterns. 

It was beautiful, just like the creamy gown that covered her body.  

“Do you like it, bride?” 

Rising from the crowd like a flame among charred coals, appeared her handsome abductor. Suitable to a true evil prince, a long red cloak enrobed his broad, sturdy form, the velvet hem trailing behind him like a thick river of blood while he marched forward with no haste in his dauntless mien. Human once again, August offered the most endearing grin; two profound dimples embellished his scruffy cheeks, and his eyes shone brighter than a frozen sea. 

Yet in her sullen gaze, he was nothing but a monster.

Abruptly enraged and driven by pure instinct, she jumped off the marble and paced backwards. Tears of anger and fright rimmed her swollen lids and her bare feet nearly collided as she shook her head at August who was neither impressed nor concerned by this foolish protest. 

“You stay the fuck away from me!!!” She warned with a scream and hastily turned away. 

Lost in some trance, the praying mob never stirred, granting the girl a fair chance to escape the bewhiskered man who was still several strides away. Her feeble legs made three to four steps when her muscles swiftly turned to stone, and her stomach lurched. 

‘No! It couldn’t be! How?!’

Curls shining like precious coils of onyx, August emerged in front of her, continuing his relaxed gait as if this was a natural occurrence. His bright icicles melted into malicious dark pools of twisted desire, and his tongue briefly laved his plump lips at the sight of pure disbelief that cascaded over her face. He could feel right under her skin, hear the thrumming heart that both chilled and fumed for him. Further beyond her thoughts, his betrothed yearned to be defiled and torn open by him. 

It was her destiny, whether she liked it or not. 

Still she fought, so ferocious and defiant, flinching away from his attempts to seize her. It was almost comical to watch her deny him, knowing that her fate would be no different; she will spread her legs and submit to his conquest. And yet, her battle was immensely appealing; what better bride to the dark lord than a woman who breathed fire.

“Who are you?!” She cried, her trembling voice rising with panic and her cheeks soaking with tears, “What do you want from me?!”

August's face was devoid of mercy, her whimpering hisses did nothing to deter him and only further increased the appetite of the deprived wolf that circled in his gut. With a wring of his wrist, his fingers snapped at her elbow, hauling her against his rock-hard chest with such might her heels hovered above the ground. 

Writhing in his grip she flung her hands at his face, clawing streams of crimson to trickle down his cheeks. The notion of hurting this vicious man brought somewhat of a sick joy; but her onslaught died at once, and her mouth fell agape as his skin healed with not even a trace of injury. 

“Oh God, what are you?!” She shuddered. 

Still holding her elbow hostage, his free hand travelled to the hem of the white gown, the long, perverted fingers twisting around the fabric before yanking it off at once. A resounding rip echoed through the tall arches, causing the chanting choir to halt their susurrations at once. 

All eyes were afloat as the cold air kissed her skin. In vain, she attempted to cover herself only to be felled by the restraints of August’s grasp. 

“God?...” The man finally spoke, his melodic voice ending with a sonorous hum that sprouted through her arteries like a deadly toxin. Not less poisonous, his gaze trailed down her form, worshipping the very sights of his delightful prize. 

“Not God, but once I was an angel,” he suggested and leaned down to inhale her skin with a gratified growl before he flicked his wide tongue at her chest.

A groan of approval emitted from his lips, the sheer coat of sweat that layered her bosom was soaked of freshly brewed fear, his most favourite savour. His wet, velvety snake swept the sweet-briny wetness and licked further down her breasts, twirling around the erect nipple.

Unintended, she moaned. A river of delights rushed between her grinding thighs.

“No!”

Wrongful, unwanted bliss awoke in her. She felt desecrated and allured at once. Her fickle body deceived, mistaking this vile conquest as consensual. And the more August took, the more she desired; her dutiful womb demanded to consummate this bond, almost as if the beast had bewitched her a long while ago, embedding his essence in the marrow of her bones. 

August grinned against her skin, the scent of her arousal fresh in his nose while his lips travelled to kiss down her sternum and the slope of her torso. His thick whiskers left a trail of fluttering butterflies.

“Have sympathy, my love. I had built my own realm and waited in the forlorn abyss. Empires fell and worlds disintegrated into ashes while I waited for thou,” he explained and clutched the cheek of her behind in his claw, squeezing it possessively. “I have longed for your touch since the day your ancestor promised you to me, little lamb. A hundred years’ worth of waiting for the bargain to reach its end, and for you to finally be ripe.” 

The beast pressed one last languid kiss below her navel, a guttural hum exuded in between his lips, huffing hot against her belly. Slowly he rose to his full height, towering above his helpless victim who hugged her arms to cover her naked body and watched her nightmare unfold once more. Cold wind chilled her damp cheeks as August flung the blood-red cloak and exposed his naked figure before her.  

He was massive, a masculine build fit for a warrior angel, covered with thick bulging muscles and dark hair. Lips parted, she forgot herself, gawking in awe and allowing her gaze to trail down to his unapologetically monstrous cock. Firm and throbbing, it dripped with hunger, urging to find release inside her clenching cavern.

She didn’t even know a man could be this vast, but alas, he was no man at all.

It was at that moment when blackest wings spread before her that realisation finally struck through like a blunt hammer to the back of her head. Covering her mouth she cowered away, her exposed back hitting the raised altar behind her. 

August was no man nor god, but Lucifer himself. 

Seeing the hope die in her eyes, the devil sneered. 

“No, no, no! This can’t be real! This isn’t real!!!” She yelled, pathetic little hiccups sputtering from her lips.

August tilted his head, giving a scornful pout and scoffed with amusement. “Am I not?” He asked as he lifted an arm to flick his fingers, summoning two of the hooded servants to approach the dais. Their eyes were soulless gems embedded to a grey face that was cracked like a broken eggshell. 

“I am real, beloved, as real as the child you will conceive me tonight.” 

Shrills of terror flew through the great hole in the ceiling. Kicking and screaming, she fought as the men seized her arms and dragged her to the altar, forcing her flat down and holding her arms to prevent her from escaping. They never blinked at the ferocious war she waged against them, though an impish smile slowly possessed their faces as their master strode forward. 

“Sweet little lamb,” August chanted, enamoured with his fiery bride while he sauntered by the edge of the altar. His Adonis body golden in the candlelight, his fingers squeezed and pumped the ravenous demon that hung heavy between his legs. The twinge in her womb rose in response, a low roar thrumming as it yearned to succumb to its unbridled purpose. Sheen, the arousal trickled between her kicking legs and onto the smooth stone, making her cheek flame.

Much to August’s pleasure. 

“Our son will burn this world to cinders,” he promised and snaked his fingers at her ankles. Calmly deflecting her attempts to kick against him, he dragged her toward him until her knees folded over the edge and spread between his thighs. The platform was in the perfect height, positioning her delicious Eden at the height of his blessed demon. 

“You will make an excellent mother.”

Her entire body shook, her cunt clenching along her sobs in both defence and beguiling need as August leaned in and grazed the silky pink crown between her wet petals. She begged he wouldn’t be able to invade her, but her prayers fell to deaf ears.    

“Please don’t do this to me! I will do anything… please!” She wailed a bargain, still trying to escape the servants’ grip and looking at him pleadingly, “I… I...haven’t been with a man!”

“Oh I know…” August beamed and stroked himself back and forth between her engorged lips. Vamping flames tingled at her flesh, her core foolishly squeezing around nothing in demand for this wretched monster to defile her.  

“You’ve kept yourself for me, didn't you? I have waited for you too, for centuries even, but now our waiting has ended, and I can finally love you.”

With one brutal thrust, he breached through the gates of her sacred haven, corrupting her purity and ripping her open with the elegance of a savage. 

Exasperated bats fluttered their wings over the red moon at the sound of her pained howl. Eyes flared to the bleak sky above; the girl watched them in a daze, disbelieving the blazing demon that scorched her from inside as he nestled himself between her resisting gates with no intention to cease. 

In his villainy, August pushed further. Stunned thunders of ecstasy erupted from his lips, all to humiliate her along with the dark minions who circled the altar to pervertedly witness this sacrilegious ritual in which their master ravaged the unwilling maiden. Ignoring her body’s vehement protest, he forced himself unfathomably deep, only stopping until the head of his cock kissed the gateway of her cervix.

Crystalised tears rolled down her temples and stained the cold marble beneath her body. Slit impossibly sore, she twitched and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling of being invaded by another entity. Her once protected realm was now under the domain of a ruthless prince, and he took no prisoners and granted no mercy nor care at her vain endeavours to push him out. 

He would never stop. He would have her again and again until her sacred little womb would be plentiful with his seed. 

“Tight,” he blurted out in a blissful huff and reached his talons to bite into her quaking thighs. Spreading her wider, he hooked his hands below her knees, moulding her into a vessel to be fulfilled. Arctic orbs glazed down her naked figure, his plump lips cooing at her aching whimpers. The taut and hairy muscles of his gut flexed as he carefully withdrew his vicious cock, coated in the crimson sorrow of her maidenhood.

Hollow pain throbbed in her empty cunt as he suddenly abandoned her. Distressed and overwhelmed, she hoped he would stay out, yet her traitorous body coveted his return in a false faith that it would ease the fervid twinge that soared to her belly and even burnt in her breasts.

It was far from true.

No less vigorous than before, August plunged back inside her, stretching her again, shaping her as his own as she yipped and struggled to escape. His head threw back with a roar of divine pleasure, feasting at the thrill of her dauntless veils wrapping around him like a succulent flower. For a moment there, he wondered who preyed on who. Her concupiscent little cove sucked him so wantonly it threatened to swallow his raging cock. 

‘But of course, every virgin is destined to become my whore.’

Hot and heavy, his shaft seized the void that had always been inside her, their heaving organs collided in euphoric bliss like two broken shards that were lost for decades and finally pieced back together. And even though she seared with every jerk or shift he made, the impassioned flames licked at the seams of her twitching cunt in waves of ache and foreign desperation. 

“No…” she whispered, shame singeing her throat as the little pesky sparks enkindled where the devil had violated her. Vision blurry, she gazed at him utterly mystified. Part of her warred to stoke the fire that screamed heresy, while the other begged to yield to her demise.   

As August pulled away again and thrust harder, a breathless moan tore from her lips.    

A cutting grin radiated onto his face. “It feels so good inside you,” he sang and slid one hand to stroke all the way down from her sweat-ridden thighs to her belly, feeling the movement of his cock with every push and shove. 

He was taunting her, yet she couldn’t care less. Over the cinders of pain and virtue, a garden began to bloom. With every abysmal stroke of his swelling shaft, she could feel green saplings and coy vines growing within her uterus—soft, beautiful tendrils stalked through her arteries, sprouted through her cove, and engulfed his swelling demon as well.

She was no longer burning but becoming alive. Pained cries suddenly evolved into asphyxiation of bliss. Beyond her realisation, she undulated her hips in the desire to endure each of his wet claiming thrusts. Her spine coiled against the surface, further allowing him easier passage to nourish the wilderness that continued spreading through her blood. 

Noticing the change in her, approving groans rumbled in his throat; his little bride was growing tighter around his demon, her quivering lips and fluttering lashes the image of true Elysium. It was not long before he would plant his seed in her fertile lush. Her cunt milked and suckled around him, demanding to be bred by the devil. 

“Yes, my love! Give in to me! Give in to your primal sin!” August urged, enhancing the rhythm until he was thrusting into her like a battering ram, the sinful elixir of their union smearing on his groin and dripping down her rump. “Descend with me!” 

In her delirium she witnessed magical nightshades and sinewy stalks growing amidst the gritty bricks, encompassing the ominous cathedral with bright colours. 

It was paradise on earth, given to her by the unearthly rapturous joy of having this demon violate her, slamming harder with growing frustration until his thick girth ripped through the last threads of her self-preservation and that which she tried so hard to deny erupted through her clenching core.

Euphoria. 

For a lingering moment, she had wings of her own, pale as precious pearls and lustrous stars. Tingling waves of ethereal white heat burst at her seams, purifying her as she flew above the cathedral, and watched their ungodly union from above. But her wings suddenly caught aflame and before she knew it, she crashed onto the earth with a secondary, more violent climax. 

The beast’s roars erupted into a brutal thunder, causing the sturdy pillars of the cathedral to quake and crack like thin glass. With all his might, he clutched her thighs and hauled her against him, slamming his swollen cock deep into her belly and releasing his smouldering, milky essence until it seeped from her sleek. August’s wings flew open as he found his own rapture, blazes following through and consuming the ancient hall. 

This was no longer a hallucination. 

This was Inferno.

Still radiating with orgasmic glow, she screamed horrified as everything around them vehemently burnt to coals. Even the soulless servants crumbled into dust, accepting their fate without so much of a yip. The fire raged and died within seconds, leaving nothing but broken pillars and ashen smoke.  

Shortly, the tepid air of night caressed her naked skin as they remained alone in the ruins of what was once an ominous cathedral. Still buried in her viscera, August broke into a low, stretching groan of relief which made her immediately return her eyes to him. Shame rose bitter in her throat and new fresh rivulets trickled on her cheeks.  

After all that he had done to her, she could see nothing in him but a beautiful monster.

“My beloved queen,” August keened to comfort her and moved his hand to tenderly stroke her lower belly. 

A toothy smile broke upon his face, his eyes gleaming with surprise as he felt the life that had already begun growing in her angelic fortress. A son, strong and glorious as his father. For the first time in his long existence, the devil was truly elated and he vowed in that moment that he would give her much, and much more. But first, she needed to be cared for. 

Her assaulted hole convulsed with pain as he pulled himself out, leaving a trail of creamy fluids to dribble at his departure. Sniffling and shaking, she watched him bemused, as he climbed onto the altar and moved to lie beside her. Though she no longer flinched as he touched her, what was the point of it anyway? He had already destroyed her and stolen her innocent soul.  

“You make me so happy, my beloved queen,” August had murmured as he gripped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss claimed her breath, pillaging whatever left of her chastity and wit until she absentmindedly kissed back, forgetting herself as his tongue bested her will. 

When he broke away, the taste of spiced ruby wine and blood lingered in her mouth. 

“An eternity awaits us,” the devil explained as he pecked her nose and her forehead lovingly, to which she shivered - out of fright or out of want, she couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

“You had made me the happiest, now give me the chance to grant the same favour, ask for anything you want in the world and it shall be yours,” he begged and wrapped her in the shelter of his strong arms to lie down with him on the smooth stone surface.

Absentmindedly, she welcomed the protection offered from his embrace and stared silently as flakes of cement broke from the remnants of the wall floated in the air around her before she opened her mouth. 

“I wish for…” 

Her whisper faded into the dark.

*Disclaimer: I do not own Mission Impossible or August Walker

Beautiful dividers by @firefly-graphics​

[miekasa]

homecoming (levi ackerman)

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: college au, how many ways can i fit levi’s captain status into the modern world, fluff

↯ notes: i love levi :// and i’m out of gifs to put at the top of these, so when i learn how to make headers i’ll let you guys know. also this isn’t proofread rip in peace 

↯ summary: there’s a pretty well known homecoming tradition, and levi’s hoping you’re willing to partake in it. 

“So,” you hum, wiping away any crumbs from your mouth, “Are you going to tell me exactly why you wanted to have a picnic at 2:30 in the afternoon on a random Thursday, or am I supposed to wait for a grand reveal?”

Levi rolls his eyes, and sips on his wine, ignoring your incoming giggles. “Can’t I want to take you on a date?” he clicks his tongue, setting his, now empty, plastic wine cup onto the picnic blanket, “Ungrateful brat.”

You smack him on the arm, mouth open in offense; but Levi’s chuckling, shoulder’s shaking at your reaction. “I am a very grateful brat,” you correct him, “But I am also very suspicious one.”

Levi hums, not bothering to reply. Instead, he separates the two halves of his sandwich, wraps one half around a napkin, and hands it to you. You accept it, albeit a little hesitantly, and watch as Levi pays you no mind, biting into his half neatly.

If it were any normal situation, you’d probably try to snap a picture of him—you have somewhat of an ongoing collection of sneaky pictures of Levi on your dates, particularly when he looks cute munching on his food, much to his disdain—but this was not a normal situation.

Levi is acting strange. It’s not just the nature of this date itself—it may be out of character for Levi to want to go on a picnic of all things, but could be quite the romantic at heart, and often planned very quaint dates for the both of you. It was everything that happened since you set up your picnic that was truly out of the ordinary.

Like the way he seemed distracted, getting lost in thought in a way you hadn’t seen before; and how he kept sweeping his hair out of his eyes, and readjusting his small silver earring. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s nervous about something.

“Seriously,” you say lightly, carefully setting your half-eaten portion of the sandwich back onto the blanket, “What’s this all about?”

Levi looks at you for a beat, once again using his free hand to brush his dark hair behind his ear, then with suspecting eyes, “You don’t like it?”

Your eyebrows draw together at his questioning, confused by the lack of sarcasm, or even hurt in his tone; like he was genuinely surprised.

“What? No, Levi, that’s not what I meant,” you assure him, “I just mean that this isn’t really us. You hate eating outside—you always make us wait for indoor seating—and, if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen a couple go on a picnic in real life.”

Levi reaches to pour more cheap wine into your faux glasses, “I guess romance really is dead.”

You squint your eyes, carefully tracking his movements as he hands you a plastic cup before refilling his own. Levi isn’t one to dodge questions, or any kind of confrontation. Now you know for sure that something’s up.

“Levi,” you call gently, feeling like you finally have his full focus when his eyes meet yours, “What’s going on?”

His gaze softens at your question this time, and you finally see a hint of the Levi you know behind his expression. He sighs, carefully closing the boxed wine, and taking his cup into his hand. With a slight head nod, he motions for you to come closer, and you obiiently shuffle closer to him, until you’re sitting side by side.

You take the liberty of resting your head on his shoulder, cheek soft against his coat. You can hear him take a deep breath, feel his exhale deflate his shoulders, before he speaks.

“Homecoming is next weekend,” he starts, “You’re going, yeah?”

You hum in affirmation, watching as he takes a careful sip from his cup before continuing.

“There’s this tradition. It’s stupid as shit, if you ask me, so you don’t have to say yes,” he mumbles, lips barely off of the plastic, before he takes another sip. “But, if you’re dating someone, they’re supposed to show up to the game in your jersey.”

You snap your head up from his shoulder, blinking at Levi and the implications of his words, as you begin to piece together the mystery of his actions from this afternoon. Levi—your Levi—took you on a picnic, complete with homemade sandwiches and cheap wine, to ask you to be his date to his homecoming game.

Your stunned silence is filled with light breeze that brushes past your hair, and makes Levi return to brushing his away again. He drinks in your expression, grey eyes growing cloudy as he assumes the worst of your silence.

“Like I said, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he explains cooly, bringing his cup to his mouth again for a bitter sip, “I didn’t know if you were going to stick around for the whole day anyways, you’ve probably got other shit to—”

You kiss him quiet. Levi is surprised at first, jolts a little bit when your actions cause him to spill some of his drink, but he kisses you back, a small wave of relief washing over him. At least he didn’t make a complete fool of himself just now.

“Of course I’ll wear your jersey, Levi.”

Most parents and alumni stuck around for the traditional football game, but the boys’ soccer team was always popular amongst students, and for good reason.

Not only did the university’s team have an exceptional record, but they had no shortage of eye-candy playing for them, either. Even the team’s managers were pretty cute. You were certain players like Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger were not plastered all over the university website solely for their soccer skills.

Though, good looks aside, they were undeniably good, and made a damn impressive pair on the field. However, most of the crowd would agree that Jaeger, Arlert, and the entire team, could thank their captain for their win today.

You step onto the field with a wide grin as you watch Levi’s team wrangle him into the middle of their circle and toss him up in the air unceremoniously. You almost want to capture the moment for yourself, but to your left, Hange is already recording a video you’re certain Levi would threaten to have deleted.

Most of the mob had fizzled away after the exciting win, leaving behind the team themselves, and a couple of students—likely friends or family of the athletes. After their final huddle, the boys begin to dissipate, greet the remaining crowd. Hange leaves you to badger Erwin, who had been sitting out due to an injury.

You spot Levi carefully picking up his duffel bag, and take the opportunity to run up to him, encase in a sudden and warm hug. You wrap your arms around his neck, and Levi has but a moment’s notice to secure his hands around your back and steady your bodies, lest you both fall to the ground from your uncoordinated momentum.

“You played so well!” you exclaim, pulling back from your hug, but keeping your palms on his shoulders, bouncing excitedly, “I knew you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good! You’ve never played like that before!”

Levi admits to tuning out your praise in favor of drinking in your appearance. The green of his away jersey looks good against your skin, the fabric somewhat loose on your frame. His eyes trail down to the sleeve, a minuscule smirk growing on his lips as he reads his last name in all capital letters underneath his number.

“Come on, Hange and I are taking you guys out for lunch!” your words snap him back to reality, “Anything you want, it’s on me, Captain.”

Levi rolls his tongue against his inner cheek. That’s a promise he’d have to take you up on later. For now, he plays along with your childlike enthusiasm, agreeing to your plans.

He motions for the two of you to get going, but his stride is blocked when you refuse to move from in front of him. Instead, you let your hands crawl from his shoulder to his neck, fingers tickling the hairs at his nape, before you pull him forward into a gentle kiss.

“You really were great, Levi,” you tell him again, pressing another kiss to his lips sweetly.

Levi hums, indulging you one more time, before he hears gasps and not-so-subtle exclamations of “Captain has a girlfriend?!” coming from his annoying teammates. He scoffs when he pulls back to see Jaeger looking at him with his mouth open so wide he could catch flies.

“You’re kind of ruining my reputation,” Levi tells you, but there’s no real bark to his tone.

It’s your turn to scoff, slowly trailing your hands down his arms, and eventually back to your side. You turn and the both of you begin to walk, not before you note, “You ruined your own reputation when you invited me and Hange here.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Hey!” you whine, frown deepening as Levi chuckles at you, “You’re not supposed to agree, asshole.” 

Levi doesn’t stop laughing, but gently wraps his arms around your shoulder as the both of you follow behind Hange and Erwin, and back to your car. 

“Don’t think your unusual displays of affection are going to make me forgive you,” you pout, but reach your hand to wrap your fingers around his anyways; Levi doesn’t even bother to hide his smirk, “I don’t care if you scored the winning goal or not, just for that, I’m only buying you one appetizer.”

Levi hums noncommittally. That’s fine, he could think of at least three other things he would rather you do for him instead when you both got home. With and without that jersey on.

[doctenwho]

Hangovers, Love and Space Vodka (PE Pt. 2)

Hello! Requests are definitely open, even if I’m awfully slow! I feel bad at how slow these are coming out especially since there’s so many in waiting, but writing just hasn’t been on the table recently. Apologies for that!

But I’ve found the time and the motivation, so I decided to get this done! Thank you for your patience! This is such a cute idea, and it always makes me happy that people like the first parts enough to request a continuation. I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you readers like it too! 

So, please enjoy the continuation of Purest Expression (also, you should probably read that one if you haven’t already, this fic heavily references it!) Also, I just thought the name was funny and I was in desperate need for one, so feel free to suggest others if you’ve got one!

Warnings: Talk of alcohol, but no drinking!

Word Count: 4,050

Summary: Check out the prompt above! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the talented creator!)

You didn’t really remember a lot when you woke up. All you really knew was you'd drank far too much of that delicious cocktail, and that your brain was pounding in your head. This was quite possibly one of the worst hangovers you’d had, but honestly, you’d do it all over again to have another one of those space cocktails.

You rolled onto your back, lifting your hands to cover your eyes in an attempt to block out what little light managed to stream into the room. Your stomach churned at the movement, but it settled out easily enough after you didn’t move a muscle for a few minutes following your roll.  

You relaxed back into the bed when your stomach settled down, and finally uncovered your eyes, staring up at the ceiling with a bleary gaze.  

As you laid there, you tried to piece together the evening. The bits and pieces between arriving and having enough to drink that you could no longer walk a straight line.  

You knew you’d gone out on the town with the Doctor—he'd been excited to show you things. He'd raved enthusiastically about the planet, and you’d listened along as your own excitement grew too. Then, you remember finally stepping out of the TARDIS and being completely astounded by this new planet, with all its colours, music and general liveliness.  

The cute little bar wedged between two buildings; you remember that too. And of course, you remember the cocktail—you'd had two, or three, or... had it been four? You couldn’t really pinpoint it. The Doctor had said it was weaker than earth vodka, and maybe it was, but the after effects were definitely more intense to a human that human vodka was. That said you’d still be down for another drink or two before you left.  

It was well worth the pain of a hangover to taste that drink again. Just the thought of it made your tastebuds tingle.  

You let out a light laugh before rolling back over onto you side, but this time following it up with pulling yourself to a sitting position. The nausea was still there, but hardly noticeable; just a subtle warning to keep your movements slow and steady lest you start gagging.  

Your head was still pounding, but you knew that wasn’t going to go away without pain killers, so you stumbled to your feet to go find the Doctor. He’d have something that could help, and at this point, you didn’t care what planet it came from, so long as it killed the raging headache and... well, didn’t kill you.  

You found the Doctor in the kitchen of all places.  

He was perched at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in front of him, as well as a book. He startled when you stepped into the room, breathing a light, “oh, (Y/N),” as a greeting.

You continued into the room, wobbling on your feet for just a second, “good morning,” you greeted in return, forcing a smile onto your lips despite the headache, “you don’t happen to have any pain killers do you?”

The Doctor frowned, “are you unwell?”

“Just a bit of a hangover,” you promised with a wave of your hand, “a little worse than an earth alcohol hangover, but it’s manageable. I’ll be fine, my head just really hurts.”

“Right, of course,” the Doctor nodded, pushing himself up and moving towards the cupboards. He rifled around the cabinets, reading labels of things and putting them back before he finally found what he was looking for, “these aren’t of your earth, but they are basically the same thing as your planet’s Advils. I’m sorry I don’t have anything that’ll help from your earth, I should really invest in some if I’m going to keep soliciting companions from earth.”

“Soliciting?” You snorted a laugh, which made you wince lightly, “really?”

“Well, I do tempt you humans away with the offer of the entirety of the universe, now, don’t I?” You smiled at the Doctor’s cheeky grin as he joined you at your side, setting the pill bottle in front of you to do with as you pleased, whether that was to ignore it, or take a couple, before he carried on to the counter. “No different really, I offer the universe in exchange for companionship, and I’m proud to say very few have ever declined. Now, would you like a tea, or coffee?”

“Jokes on the ones who declined, they’re really missing out,” you huffed out as you picked up the pill bottle, surveying over the list of ingredients. None looked too out of the world, but honestly, you’d do anything at this point to ease the thrum of your headache, so you uncapped the bottle, “surprise me.”

The Doctor turned back to flash you a grin from where he’d busied himself at the counter, “will do, my Dear.”

You shook a few pills into your hand from the bottle, eyeing them as if they were about to change colours or something similarly alien-like, but when none of that happened, you frowned, “how many do I take?”

“Well...” the Doctor turned thoughtfully to lean against the counter, “I’d say to start off with one and see if it does anything for you. There will be small differences from planet to planet, and we wouldn’t want you to overdose. After a half an hour you can try taking another pill if one doesn’t help.”

“Sounds good,” you popped a single pill into your mouth before you could hesitate. As if the Doctor was magic, he slid a mug of you go-to morning beverage towards you, and you washed the pill down with a sip of the perfectly prepared drink.  

You savored the taste of your drink, sighing into the warmth. When you’d had a couple sips, you put the cap back on the pill bottle and slid the bottle to the center of the table. You watched the Doctor move around the small kitchen as he made himself another coffee before joining you at the table.  

The two of you settled into a silence, thankfully. You hunched over the table, your elbows on the surface and your cheeks cupped in your palms, as the Doctor continued reading, but he looked like he was lost in his thoughts instead of actually reading.  

“How long have you been up?” you asked slowly, squeezing your eyes shut before blinking them open again to see the Doctor’s gaze on you. “You’re kinda spacing out.”

“I’ve just... some things on my mind,” the Doctor admits with a tiny curl upwards of his lips. It didn’t really answer the question, but at the same time it did. You didn’t think the Doctor had even gone to sleep. “Has the headache eased at all?”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape noticing suddenly that the headache was in fact almost gone. You hadn’t even realized, “yeah,” you informed with a laugh, “almost gone. I didn’t even notice—space things are so much better than earth things; the drugs and alcohol.”

“That would be a very worrying observation if I didn’t know exactly what you were talking about,” the Doctor snorted a laugh. You laughed along too, even if the statement was completely true—it had only been about ten minutes and the space Advil was already working wonders, where as the earth stuff could take anywhere from fifteen to thirty minutes to actually kick in.  

“So,” you drawled after another string of comfortable silence between the two of you, “what’s been on you mind then?”

The Doctor eyed you up and down briefly before sighing, running his fingers through his hair and making his already untamed locks stand up at odder angles, “I was just thinking about yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” you parroted under your breath. You’d been thinking about yesterday too. How could you not be? There were still gaps in time where you don’t really remember what happened. “What happened yesterday?”

“You don’t remember?” The Doctor blinked.

“No, I do,” you leaned back in your chair with a sigh, “well, most of it, I think. But some of it... I don’t know? It’s kind of a blur. I guess the cocktails started hitting me towards the end of the evening, I barely remember coming back.”

“You were a bit out of it,” the Doctor admits sheepishly, “glad I cut you off at three drinks then.”

“I could’ve handled more,” you scoffed, smiling widely in a teasing way.  

The Doctor rolled his eyes, leaning forwards, closer to you as his voice dropped, “I do believe three is probably your limit, Love.”

You let out a bout of bright laughter and the Doctor smiled softly. You loved how easy it was to banter with the man—how the two of you were so comfortable with the other that you could tease back and forth like this.  

As if to prove his point, your head gave a warning thrum of pain that drew a shallow breath from you, “yeah,” you shook the pain off, “you’re probably right about three being my space-cocktail limit.”

The Doctor shook his head fondly at you as he settled back in his chair, “so, anything you’d like to know about yesterday? I did promise I’d tell you anything you’d like to know?”

You thought back to what you remembered about yesterday: the walk from the TARDIS to the bar, the ideal seating at the bar, those amazing rainbow cocktails that tasted like dreams. Drinking and chatting and laughing with the Doctor—splitting a plate of chips that were unbelievably delicious... and then... well, the space English the TARDIS didn’t bother translating for you.  

“What was the bartender saying to you?”

The Doctor drew in a breath as his cheeks dusted the faintest pink, “nothing important, I assure.”

“C’mon,” you pouted, cradling your half drank, significantly cooled drink between your hands as you leaned towards the Doctor this time, “you said you promised to tell me about yesterday, right?”

The man chewed at his lip, subdued, but clearly trying to figure out the best course of action, “alright, well, we... I suppose we were acting a tad bit... involved? And... some assumptions were made about us by the barkeep.”

“Involved how?” you raised a questioning eyebrow. “And... what kind of assumptions?”

“Involved involved,” the Doctor cleared his throat, eyeing your level of understanding before rubbing his forehead and adding, “uhm, romantically involved. Those were, well, the main assumptions made as well.”

You gaped for a second before a thought came back to you suddenly, “he kept calling us lovers.”

“Yes,” the Doctor managed a light, fond smile, “I did try to explain it to him: us, our companionship—but, well, he... he didn’t believe me.”

“He didn’t believe you?” You repeated back, surprised.  

“No,” the Doctor laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, “he made some pretty solid points in favor of us being romantically involved too, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased, “and what points might those be?”

“Well, we were sitting fairly close--”

“As friends do,” the excuse came easily. The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but continued on like you hadn’t spoken.

“--I was hovering close to you, I suppose... A bit at least--”

“You were worried about me,” you interjected with a fond eyeroll at how wrong the bartender had been. Lovers? Come on, no way. You guys were... you were friends. Obviously. Though the thought of the Doctor hovering over you, making sure you were okay warmed your heart.  

“--we leaned into each other’s sides, uhm, multiple times throughout the evening--”

You struggled for an excuse for that one, you did tend to lean into his space, not that the Doctor ever seemed to mind. And he liked to press into your personal space as well—neither of you really cared about proximity, so you managed a one shouldered shrug, “it was just loud in the bar, hard to hear each other.”

“--and, well, he pointed out I was staring at you occasionally; odd for him to have noticed, when I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

You couldn’t come up with an excuse for that one, eyebrows furrowing in confusion that made your breath catch in the weirdest way. He’d been staring at you? Why did that make you feel so happy?

“And then the fact that you returned the stare when I wasn’t looking. Honestly, that barkeep spent more time watching us than he did working last night, I’m sure.” The Doctor let out a playful scoff, genuinely amused that the bartender had put more time into them than his job.  

You however, were suddenly caught up in the information.  

He’d been staring at you when you weren’t looking—fondly, you were sure, if it had caught the bartender’s attention and led him to believe the two of you were in a relationship. Then there was the fact that you were staring at him in return? You’d been caught by someone staring at the Doctor? You knew you did it sometimes, how could you not? He was a good-looking, kind, compassionate man who liked your company. Just being with him made your heart speed up.

“That doesn’t mean we’re a couple,” you forced yourself to say, even if... well, you were questioning it just slightly. You knew, of course, that the two of you weren’t a couple but... “That bartender was just bored and looking too far into us, I’m sure he was doing it to everyone...”

“Of course not, surely we’d know if we were, right?” the Doctor agreed with a light grin. The grin only lingered for a second before it faltered and he chewed at his bottom lip. You were about to question it, but he spoke again before you could, “but, well, I suppose there is the song he had to go off of as well.”

“The song?” You questioned before it all flooded back—well, most of it, at least, “we were on a stage. We... we sang together. Was that a karaoke bar or something?”

“We were,” the Doctor ducked his head in a nod, “we... did. And it, well, it was kind of like your earth karaoke bar. Do you remember anything about it?”

You tried to remember, you know the Doctor explained it last night after he’d gotten the information from the barkeeper, but you still don’t really know. And you’re sure there were bits and pieces that he didn’t tell you last night as well. So, you shook your head.

“Right,” the man nodded, settling his elbows on the tabletop as he held his chin up, “well, the concept of the song ritual we were roped into performing is that you sing whatever song best corresponds to what you think about your peer. I’m not exactly sure how it works to be honest, the expression through song is just strong.”

“So, whatever I felt about you would be... conveyed through a song?”

“Yes.” The Doctor gives a light nod.

“And whatever you felt about me would... would also be?”

“Indeed,” his head tilts as he surveys you, trying to piece together where you were going with this string of questions.  

“But... we sang a duet, didn’t we?” You furrowed your eyebrows, running a finger along the rim of your mug. You faintly remembered chiming in with the Doctor’s song, instantly knowing the new lines to his song despite not knowing his lines, or the actual song. “Does that happen? What... what does it mean?”

“Well,” the Doctor cleared his throat, looking nervous. “It does happen, it’s just, well, it’s rare? I suppose. The barkeeper, just before we left, told me that the last time he saw a duet happen during the expression through song ceremony was when he was a child.”

“Wow, okay,” you bit the inside of your cheek. You had a feeling you knew what it meant, and the thought made your cheeks heat up, but you asked anyways, “what does a duet mean?”

“Well, generally speaking...” the Doctor shot you a small, crooked smile, “it means that we feel exactly the same way about each other. Exactly the same to the point that our expression would be through the same song, at the same time.”

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but repeat, “that’s... wow. So it really is unusual then? Why did it happen to us? Was it a fluke?”

“No, don’t think so,” the Doctor shakes his head, a blush rising to his cheeks as his fingers tap against the table, “something like that would be hard to fake, so I doubt it was a fluke. We chose the song—deep in our subconscious when thinking of the other... I mean... I didn’t know the lyrics beforehand, did you?”

“No,” you breathed out, fingers fiddling with your empty mug, “I don’t even think I remember the lyrics now. They were just... in my head when they needed to be. I didn’t even know your lines of the song. It’s weird that we were the people that got the duet—random visitors.”

“It was the same for me,” the Doctor sends you a small smile, “I think few people view their... companion the same way their companion views them. It seems highly unlikely that any two people can feel the exact same way...”

You’re not sure why, but there’s something different about the way the Doctor says companion this time around. Maybe he holds a different fondness than you’re used to, or perhaps some other reason, but there’s an unfamiliar warmth in the word.  

“But we did,” you whisper, looking up momentarily and catching the Doctor’s eyes before dropping your gaze back to your cup.

“But we did,” the Doctor repeats, just slightly louder than you. Like he too can’t wrap his brain around it. There’s a pause before the Doctor’s clearing his throat, forcing a crooked smile onto his lips. “Well, I promised you we head to the shops for some alcohol and other treats, didn’t I?”

The Doctor stands, moving swiftly towards the door without looking back.

“I meant it, you know?” You speak before you even realize you’re speaking. You don’t see the Doctor stop, since you’re facing the other direction, but you hear his steps come to a halt, feet planting in spot.  

He doesn’t say anything for a second, which prompts you on, “I do need you.”

He still doesn’t say anything, or move, so you stand and gather both your mug and his own, walking in the opposite direction from him towards the sink. You set the mugs in but don’t touch the faucet, instead mumbling a soft, “I want you.”

You’re not even sure if he’d still there anymore, or if he’d taken you moving as his cue to escape. You don’t turn to look, afraid to not find him there, so instead you whisper what little of your lyrics from yesterday that you remember, “come on back to me.”

Another moment of silence drags in before you hear the Doctor moving. His steps are quick, and you think he’s leaving out the door when suddenly hands are on your waist and he’s swiftly turning you around and gently pushing you against the edge of the counter beside the sink.  

You manage to muffle your surprise as his lips press against yours, soft but urgently all the same.  

You melt into his lips, eyes slipping shut as his hands leave your waist, one wrapping around your middle, as the other rises to cup at your jaw. It spurs you on too, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him just slightest bit close, to which he blindly follows your lead.  

You don’t pull away until the need to breath outweighs how good it feels to be kissing him.

You both gasp for breath, but neither of you pull away, lips still touching the faintest bit, “I didn’t think you even remembered the lyrics... how... intimate the duet was...” It’s the first thing the Doctor’s said since trying to flee the room.

You slowly open your eyes, catching his eyes waiting to make contact and a smile pulls at your lips. You pull away a bit, pushing your forehead against his, “I didn’t really remember the lyrics until just now, but I never forgot the feeling of singing them to you, and hearing you singing them back to me.”

The arm around your waist tightens around you, “I didn’t know you felt the same way,” the Doctor whispers. “I didn’t want to... make you uncomfortable, or chase you away. And then you woke up this morning, and didn’t remember anything with the hangover, so I... was going to let it go.”

You’re sure you make a noise of protest, maybe even disappointment, but you only assume because the Doctor lets out a chuckle before stealing another kiss that you’re more than happy to give.  

When he goes to pull back, you snake your hand up to hold him in place, mumbling softly against his lips the last of your lyrics, a message he’d sure to understand, “I love you sundown.”

The Doctor freezes against you pulling back just enough to look into your eyes before a smile creeps onto his face. You smile at his smile, watching him fondly as his head tilts in that adorable way, affection bright in his eyes, “and I, you, my Love.”

You melt at the words leaning into him and pressing your head against his chest, fitted perfectly under his chin like a puzzle piece. Your arms wrap around him, and his move to hold you against himself just as you had done to him seconds earlier.  

You stay like that for a while—you're not sure how long. You feel protected tucked against the Doctor, and it’s a feeling you’re never going to forget.  

“How’s your head?” he asks softly above you, the voice after so long of nothing by his steady heart beats startles you. The Doctor presses an apologetic kiss to the top of your head.

“Better,” you decide, nuzzling closer to him, “why?”

“Well, I did promise we’d check out the shops, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“I almost forgot about that,” you laugh, finally pulling away. The Doctor unwraps his hand begrudgingly, frowning as he does so. You let out a laugh, slipping your hand into his. “I wanna see the shops before we leave this evening. We’ve gotta get some of that vodka.”

“I see more hangovers in your near future,” the Doctor snorts as he leads you along by the hand.  

“Oh, and, we should definitely pick up a gift for the bartender from last night,” you add, ignoring the Doctor’s teasing jab at your weak human alcohol tolerance.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, without his instance that we sing, and his instance that we were a couple, none of this,” you gesture down to your interlocked hands as the two of you step out of the TARDIS and onto the busy, colourful streets, “would’ve happened.”

The Doctor’s quiet for a second as the two of you fall into step. “There’s nothing in the universe that can ever thank him enough for what he’s done,” the man softly admits, giving your hand an adoring squeeze that drives his words home.  

Your cheeks heat up as you tuck yourself in his side. He moves easily to accommodate you, releasing your hand to wrap his arm over your shoulders instead. You move your hand to squeeze around his waist, grinning as you respond cheekily, “I don’t know, Doctor, the space vodka is pretty good...”  

The man sputters at your response, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow, ���I was being all cute and you’re comparing the gift of our newfound relationship to vodka?” the man questions, genuinely dumbfounded.  

You give a one shouldered shrug at his side, giggling at his reaction. It wasn’t long until the man was letting out a fond sigh, thumb stroking against your collarbone, “what am I going to do with you?”  

The tease in his words has you smiling. There really is nothing in the universe that seems equivalent to the gift the bartender bestowed to you, but... yeah, a bottle of space vodka was a nice start.  

<><><><>

Hello again! Hopefully you liked this continuation. Not sure if it kept to the prompt exactly, I got a bit carried away writing it, but nonetheless, I hope it was good! Feel free to prompt again if it wasn’t what you were looking for, as always!

I’ll try to keep up with the prompts but idk how well I’ll be able to manage between life and the other works in other fandoms. Anyways, hope you have a great morning/day/night!

[rifleseye]

Vent by vent, each seal unlocks, hot puffs of air leaving his torso and mouth in response. The voice in his head is disorienting, more so than the bizarre hypnosis. The fact it is capable of conscious thought — of sentience unnerves him.

There's something in the way it's shaped that makes him ill at ease. The lack of any vocal noises. It's all... wrong. That's not how beings evolve. The former Wrecker keeps his pistols trained on it as he considers what to do. He shouldn't kill it— it yielded. He also can't leave it here. It might lunge on other unsuspecting travelers.

Perceptor frowns, not enthralled by any of these solutions. He is, however, curious. He narrows his eyes and thins he lips as he considers how much room the Lost Light might have for a new... specimen.

A Quintesson's pheromones possess one fatal flaw: if a substantial amount is concentrated in one area, the haze is flammable.

The damage from the gunfire suddenly tearing through its unguarded operculum is already severe, but then the wound ignites from the inside out—Phrygonxenos reels back, blinded by the flames that burst from its skull like the petals of a luminous orange flower unfurling. Its leafy frill begins to melt, its dermal layer and sinew peeling back to reveal cartilage as black as obsidian.

All the while, the Jury does not scream. It does not writhe, or claw at its burning flesh. It kneels as if in recognition of the terrible blow he has struck, never once turning away from the Cybertronian that had set it ablaze.

The flames gutter and die as abruptly as they began. The ruin of the Quintesson's face stares back at Perceptor, warped beyond recognition. Its skull almost seems to smile.

YOU HAVE BESTED US, CYBERTRONIAN, its terrible voice knells inside his head with an intensity that aches. WE YIELD.

And then it slumps forwards, the ground shaking as it falls.

[ragingbookdragon]

Songs That Define The Batboys

Bruce: CASTLE OF GLASS; “Take me down to the river bend. Take me down to the fighting end. Wash the poison from off my skin. Show me how to be whole again. Bring me home in a blinding dream. Through the secrets that I have seen. Wash the sorrow from off my skin. Show me how to be whole again…'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass. Hardly anything else I need to be.”

Dick: BURN IT DOWN; “The colors conflicted, as the flames climbed into the clouds. I wanted to fix this but couldn't stop from tearing it down. And you were there at the turn, caught in the burning glow. And I was there at the turn, waiting to let you know…You lost that right to hold that crown. I built you up, but you let me down. So, when you fall, I'll take my turn, and fan the flames as your blazes burn. And you were there, at the turn, waiting to let me know, we're building it up to break it back down. We're building it up to burn it down. We can't wait to burn it to the ground.”

Jason: LOST IN THE ECHO; “I’ve seen that frustration, been crossed and lost and told ‘No,’ and I’ve come back unshaken, let down and lived and let go. So you can let it be known, I don’t hold back, I hold my own…I can’t fall back, I came too far, hold myself up and love my scars. Let the bells ring wherever they are, ‘cause I was there…No, you can tell ‘em all now, I don’t back up, I don’t back down. I don’t fold up and I don’t bow. I don’t roll over, don’t know how. I don’t care where the enemies are. Can’t be stopped all I know: Go hard. Won’t forget how I got this far, for every time saying, and these promises broken deep below, each word gets lost in the echo. So last lie I can see through, this time I finally let you go.”

Tim: ROADS UNTRAVELED; “Weep not for roads untraveled. Weep not for paths left lone. ‘Cause beyond every bend, is a long blinding end. It’s the worst kind of pain I’ve known. Give up your heart left broken. And let that mistake pass on. ‘Cause the love that you lost, wasn’t worth what it cost. And in time you’ll be glad it’s gone…Weep not for roads untraveled. Weep not for sights unseen. May your love never end, and if you need a friend, there’s a seat here alongside me.”

Duke: I’LL BE GONE; “And tell them I couldn’t help myself. And tell them I was alone. Oh, tell me I am the only one, and there’s nothing tat can stop me. When the lights go out and we open out eyes, out there in the silence, I’ll be gone. I’ll be gone. Let the sun fade out and another one rise, climbing through tomorrow, I’ll be gone. I’ll be gone.”

Damian: IN MY REMAINS; “Come apart, falling the cracks of every broken heart, digging through the wreckage of your disregard, sinking down and waiting for the chance to feel alive. Now in my remains, are promises that never came. Set the silence free, to wash away the worst of me. Like an army, falling, one by one by one. Like an army, falling, one by one by one.”

[gimmezutara]

Drabble that came to me earlier when reading hc’s about the steam babies:

Kya whirled around the kitchen grabbing various tea leaves. She expertly arranged the tray and swept past the counter to serve another customer.

She loved working at her Grandpa’s tea shop. It was refreshing and so different from the palace she was used to spending her days in. This place was absolutely bustling with activity and here she had more freedom than she ever did back in the Fire Nation. Here, she wasn’t Kya, Crown Princess of the Fire Nation, she could just be… Kya.

Iroh smiled as he watched her work. He loved the summers he got to spend with his granddaughter. She was always so keen to help out and was a ray of sunshine to his days.

She rushed past him again pulling a funny face and Iroh laughed.

She put her dirty tray down and bumped into Ran at the sink. “Hey, watch it Ky!” he complained as the bump knocked his arm straight into the sink.

“Are you a waterbender or aren’t you?” she teased, reaching for her notepad and pen.

“Yeah, but doesn’t mean I like being soaked,” he replied sulkily. “How come you get to serve and I’m stuck doing the washing up?”

“Wanna swap? There’s plenty of people who’d love to chat with the Prince of the Fire Nation out there,” she said, offering the pen and notebook with a knowing smile.

Ran rolled his eyes and tipped his head back with a weary sigh. “Why did Mum and Dad send us to work here again? You know I could’ve been at Ember Island with Shomo and Raoko right?”

“Doing really productive things I’m sure,” Kya said sarcastically.

Ran huffed, his fringe flying away from his face as he went back to his reluctant cleaning.

Kya bent under the counter to pick up a dish rag.

“Excuse me?” came a voice from above.

“Just a second,” she said, before she tossed the rag back in the sink behind her (feeling satisfied at the groan from her brother) and turned back to see the most gorgeous face she had ever seen in her life. She didn’t know eyes could be that green! He must be an earthbender, surely.

She suddenly realised she’d been gawping at him completely silent.

“Uh, what can I do for you?” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and tugging the ends nervously, a habit she seemed to have picked up from her mother.

“Can I get a ginger tea please?” he asked.

“Oh yeah sure!” she said a tad too loudly. “You sit down and I’ll be right with you!”

She hastily made her way to the kitchen to make the tea, knocking the whole pot over in the process. “Shit…” she muttered to herself.

“Are you alright, Kya?”

She jumped at Iroh’s voice. “Yep, absolutely fine!” she said a little too quickly.

She prepped the tray, steeled herself and made her way out into the seated area. She caught his eyes and felt herself smile. Then she tripped over the green rug in the middle of the floor. With lightning reflexes she managed to right herself just as a tan hand appeared to steady the tray. “Are you ok?” the boy asked.

Kya’s eyes widened. She laughed awkwardly. “I’m fine, just fine,” she said, feeling the tips of her ears burn with a blush as she took the tray from his hands and placed it on the table. “Sorry, I spilled your tea a bit,” she said, “I can get you another-”

“No no, it’s alright,” the boy said with a kind smile.

“Ok, um, great,” Kya said. She nodded her head at him and made her way back to the kitchen as fast as possible.

***

The next few days the boy returned every day. One afternoon Kya was leaning on the countertop lost in her imagination.

Iroh watched from his usual seat. He followed her gaze to the handsome Earth Kingdom boy sitting by the window and chuckled to himself.

He rose from his seat and joined his granddaughter at the counter. “It appears we have a new regular!” he said.

Kya was startled from her daydreaming. “Oh, uh, yes. I mean… who?”

Iroh gestured. “He is a handsome boy is he not?”

Kya blushed. “I… wouldn’t know. I guess,” she said, winning the award for worst nonchalant answer in the world.

“Shame he always sits by himself,” Iroh said. “I would have thought he would have a girlfriend.”

“Do you think he does?” Kya asked a little too quickly.

Iroh laughed to himself but kept his features neutral. “I shouldn’t think so,” he said.

Kya’s face melted with relief. “Ok. That’s good. I mean… that’s fine. Why would I care?”

They stood in silence for a while. “I’ll take over for a while my dear, you could do with a rest,” Iroh said. “Why don’t you go and accompany our new patron?”

“What?” Kya said, instinctively clutching the notebook and pen to her. “No no no, I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t possibly-”

“Make polite conversation with our new, generous customer?”

Kya paused, stumped for a response. “Uh- no-”

“Great! You have a rest,” Iroh said, taking the notebook and pen from her gently but firmly and shooing her away from the counter.

Kya stood frozen, wrestling with herself for a bit.

She turned to face the table. She sighed and drew herself up straighter and made her way over.

“Uh, hi,” she said. The boy looked up at her and smiled.

“Hi,” he said.

“It’s- uh- nice to see you again. Here. You’re a- um- good customer,” she said. Her brain screamed at her.

The boys lips quirked up into an unfairly gorgeous smile. “Uh, thanks,” he said. “Are you… still working?”

“Me? Oh, um, my Gra….boss just said- it-it’s my break,” she managed.

The boys face lit up. “Oh well, please feel free to join me,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite.

“Ok, thanks,” she said, managing to get through at least one sentence without stumbling over her words. Short as it was, she’d count it as a victory.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” the boy said.

“Oh yeah, I’m just here for the summer,” she replied.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“The Fire Nation,” she said.

“Ah, I thought so. I mean, I didn’t want to assume, but-”

“Golden eyes gave it away huh?” she said. It was a pretty dead giveaway, even if her lightly tan skin and curly hair gave away her Water Tribe heritage.

The boy nodded, smiling a bit sheepishly. “Firebender?” he asked.

She nodded. “Earthbender?” she asked.

He smiled and nodded too.

***

Kya readied herself for her night out.

“You tell anyone I went out, you’re dead,” she threatened her brother.

“Sheesh, calm down, I’m not telling on anyone,” he said from his position lying on the couch. “Just… be careful Kya ok?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll be fine,” she said.

“Oh and you better not bring him back here, ok? I’m not sharing an apartment with you and your new lover.”

She threw a pillow at him. “Same to you and your new fancy lady!” she retorted.

Ran’s face fell. “I- what?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking out last week!”

“I didn’t- she’s not-” Ran began before his face fell into a scowl and he growled in frustration. “Real nice, blackmail from the future Fire Lady, that’s comforting.”

“Shut up,” she retorted with a smile. She took one last glance in the mirror before she set off.

***

Later that night she crept back into the tea shop, a soft flame burning in her palm to light the way. She could hear her brother’s loud snores from outside the room. She carefully put her pack on the side and went to grab some water from the sink.

Suddenly a loud snore from the sofa made her jump and almost drop the cup. She quickly caught it and snapped her head round. She silently made her way to the sofa and peeked her head over it.

Iroh was fast asleep on the couch.

She breathed a sigh of relief and carefully crept back to the kitchen, putting the cup back in its place before quietly going back to her room.

The door closed with a soft click.

The snoring from the sofa ceased and Iroh carefully lifted his head to glance around the room. Then he chuckled to himself.

***

“Ah, you are both here!” Iroh said, greeting the Fire Lord and Lady enthusiastically. “We have had the most wonderful time! Ran’s been working hard in my shop and Kya has been wonderful as always. She’s even made some new friends,” he said. He glanced over at Katara with a twinkle in his eye.

Katara caught his look. She knew that look. Her gaze flicked over to her husband who, as usual, hadn’t noticed his Uncle’s tell tale signs of having some juicy gossip.

“Sit down, you must tell me all about your trip over,” Iroh said, shooing them into seats around the table.

Just then the door opened and Kya walked through, lost in a world of her own.

“Kya!” Zuko said excitedly. Kya jumped, startled at the sudden presence of her parents.

“Dad! Hi!” she said, her startled face melting into a smile.

“How’s my little sunbeam?” Zuko asked, coming over to give her a hug.

“Great, Dad,” Kya said as he squeezed her tight. She made her way over to Katara giving her a hug too.

“Had fun with Grandpa?” Zuko asked.

Kya beamed. “Of course! I actually said I’d look after the kitchen this morning though so…” she said, backing towards the door.

Zuko smiled. “Of course, I’ll come and help get heaters going.”

“Dad, I’m a firebender, you haven’t had to help me with that since I was like three,” she complained.

“Let your Dad be of assistance if he wants,” Katara said, with a patronising pat on Zuko’s shoulder. He arched an eyebrow at her and she nudged him playfully before turning back to his daughter.

Katara eyed Iroh suspiciously over the rim of her cup as Zuko and Kya left the room. Iroh’s face was impassive, as always, but Katara knew he was dying to tell her something.

“Iroh…” she said.

“Yes?” he asked.

“What do you know?”

Iroh looked around conspiratorially and leaned in. “Kya’s got a boyfriend,” he said excitedly.

Katara laughed. “Who?” she asked.

“There’s a handsome boy who comes to the tea shop, you should see her, she’s been daydreaming about him all day every day since she first laid eyes on him!”

“Oh spirits,” Katara said in mock despair.

“Reminds me of a Water Tribe girl I once had working here who could barely make the right orders because she was too distracted by the other server.”

Katara’s face suddenly became amusingly affronted. “I did not make the wrong orders! And I was not ogling Zuko!” she said.

Iroh laughed. “I believe I said ‘distracted’, my dear,” he said.

Katara blushed, as if the idea of being attracted to her husband of twenty years was still embarrassing, making Iroh laugh even more.

“What’s this boy like?” Katara said, a hint of concern in her voice. She knew her daughter could handle herself but she was all too familiar with how vulnerable feelings for someone could make you, and how much it could hurt when it didn’t go well.

“He’s very kind,” Iroh said reassuringly. “You know the day she met him she tripped over, spilled his tea everywhere!”

Katara laughed. “Oh spirits, I’d hoped she wouldn’t take after her father in this respect…”

Iroh laughed too.

Zuko walked back in and the two quickly fell quiet and went back to sipping their tea.

Zuko paused by the table. He regarded them both suspiciously.

“What did I miss?” he said, his tone heavy with suspicion.

“Nothing, my son,” Iroh said dismissively. “I was just telling Lady Katara here that it is important to spice up a marriage after such a long time together.”

Katara choked on her tea.

[rifleseye]

@sunoflegend said.

do you stick your head into everyone's business, or just mine? / i know theres that ancient one i still havent replied to but here i am once more......

trope prompt

" Starscream, " he starts, exasperation dripping from his voice, " as the Chief Science Officer it is my duty to "stick my head into everyone's business." You are not exempt from this just because you are not working directly in the Science Division. " The gall to think this was personal!

Given the people he has to work with, and indeed try to keep in order, Perceptor has the patience of a damn saint. Starscream, however... now she is testing those limits. The chain of command aboard the Lost Light has always been dubious but it's moments like these that make him yearn for a little more order.

[rifleseye]

— Perceptor gives a cursory glance over the menu, processing it in a matter of seconds before storing away his selection for when the server comes back. Admittedly, he can't help but feel curious over the other — a quick evaluation with a keen eye tells him Polyhex-based frame. He's familiar enough with the style. It's been a while since he's studied any of his acquaintances like this.

Though, quickly, he remembers it's considered bad manners so he chooses not to say anything about it. He thinks the last time was with... well, Drift. And he quickly learned shortly after to not blab so much. (His extensive and verbose speech is mostly lost from his own mind, anyways.)

" Ah, I recall that... Thankfully, for the crew's sake, nothing of the sort happened— well... It almost did. Unfortunately we had a rather rough takeoff, and from what I understand Cybertron believed us all to be dead for a while... But I'm sure you've heard of that. The Lost Light's quantum engines are truly a thing of scientific ingenuity. I doubt anything like them will ever exist again, what with being the byproduct of a bootstrap paradox I may have unintentionally created... "

He trails off, realizing he was doing just what he tried avoiding doing. He knows not everyone appreciates his rambling.

The server returns and he follows Jazz's suit, his own drink being fairly mild for him. He offers them a polite smile, his face falling back to neutrality once they're gone.

" And... well it's complicated. Mostly I'm just trying to expand my existing knowledge... Relearn some things. So I've been studying just that — the sun in the Cresium Quadrunt. As well as the binary star system a few quadrants over in Aldar. I have several probes sent out that sends me back the data I require. I doubt I'll make anything useful of it in the long term. "

There is a heaviness in his voice when he mentions the usefulness in the data. But he's quick to move past it, " There's some nebulae nearby that has an interesting assortment of basal silicon life living within it. Though, I've been having issues getting samples as they seem particularly insistent upon growing on the probes and causing interference. "

One of the servers comes by to give them a menu- as the bar is more like a pub, with both fuel and drink. Jazz taps on the audio option- slithering a thin data cable out and plug in. This way, he can listen to Perceptor, but also not bother others by the noise.

The fact he never looks at the menu itself is odd, but not startling.

Dark digits interlace as he leans forward slightly, giving the other his attention as his processes work on figuring out what he wants. Eventually, he decides on a Protihexian sunrise- and a small appetizer of rust chips and a gooey polymer dip.

"Didn' know the Light 'ad quantum engines. Last ah heard o' tha', they tried it on the ARK-2, and she went to pieces in suborbital around Lunar-2. Thankfully, without mecha on board."

He tilts his helm slightly, then gives him a wry grin.

There's a pause as the server returns to take their order, with the shorter mech disconnecting from the menu to give it over. Once the other mechanism has wandered back to place their requests- he resumes.

"So are ya lookin' to retro-engineer it, or are ya tryin' to figure out what other theoretics ya might be lookin' for? And what kinda events? Ah know there's a sun 'bout to go nova in the upper Cresium Quadrant in about...eeeh, two vorns?" His helm tilts as he consults his HUD, bringing up the astronomical information. "Yeah, looksabout...two an' an eighth vorns or so. S'readin' pretty high on t'UV spectrum at the moment."

Science isn't really the shorter mech's strong suit, but he knows that Perceptor had always been a mech that had been ready to spout any and all information about his interests. There's been precious few mechansims able to still follow their pre-war passions.

He's glad to see that the other kept some of it.

[shorkbrian]

Any chances you'll write for Levi again? It's his birthday so i was scrolling and saw your drabble for him.

I missed his birthday FRICK. Well, I have a song that makes me soft and is a vibe while reading this. https://open.spotify.com/track/68XhCrBajUR64h6wv4eYYW?si=M4wxQMwiRnqGrvn2uPlUqw 

and happy holidays to everyone lol

(Warnings - NSFW, no penetration, dubcon, gratuitous blowjob scene.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He’s called for you again.

You fix a cup of tea, just how you know he prefers it, trying to hurry through the motions, pouring the boiling water, steeping the leaves, adding the slightest touch of honey.

When you reach his room, you’re glad you’ve brought the tea. Upon opening the door, you can see that tonight will be rough, full of jealousy and unintended pain.

Levi has thrown things to the floor in anger, books, candles, paper and pen.  He hardly ever leaves a mess, is meticulous about cleaning them up as soon as he makes them. It’s unlike his normal demeanor to be so disorderly.

The man is slouched in a chair by the wall, barely raises his head when you enter. He twitches despite the care you take in shutting the door, trying your best to close it quietly.

“Captain Levi? Sir?” You held in your gasp as he lifted his head. The captain looked awful - dark circles hung under his eyes, his posture was hunched and tired, and worst of all, his eyes were red and puffy, as if he’d been crying.

Captain Levi hardly ever cried.

“(Y/N), go sit on the bed.”

Without a word, you did as you were told, placing his cup of tea on the nightstand as you sat. Levi slowly stood, straightening his back out as he did.

“I’m....” He trailed off, stepping towards the bed. His eyes were kept downcast, unable to meet your questioning gaze.

You were aware that something had probably happened on today’s push beyond the wall. Less than half of the group that had gone over had come back, Erwin and Levi grim-faced at the head of the group. Too many deaths.

“Captain… tell me-tell me how to help?” You were used to it by now, pushing aside discomfort and embarrassment to cater to your captain.

He was a harsh man, face always lowered into a disinterested scowl, not hesitant to snap at anyone who irked him or raised his ire. He made crude jokes when he was in a good mood, swearing and letting a cruel smile cross his lips.

The man had a reputation - intimidating, rigid, competent and unwavering. But with you, the menacing Captain Levi was… different.

You weren’t sure when it had started.

All you had wanted to do was provide a small bit of comfort on what had seemed to be an awful day for the Captain, much like today. He had stormed through the mess hall, ignoring the cadets shrinking away at his prescence to march straight to the kitchen. Only higher ranking members could enter the kitchens, other than staff, so it wasn’t busy.

He had grabbed a plate from the cleaned rack of dishes, dished out food, then swiftly headed for the kitchen door again, only to snap at the first staff that got in his way; you.

Feeling awful as he stormed past you, committing nothing more than the crime of standing in his way for more than a mere second, you had tried to make amends.

It was common knowledge that the Captain had an affinity for tea. A nice cup offered to the man would perhaps lift his mood. At the very least, it would soothe your conscious - you felt guilty for worsening his evening.

So that’s what you did.

He had let you in his room with a curt “come in”, and you quickly explained what the tea was for, quick to set it on the small table he was seated at before the Captain could snap at you to leave.

“Drink it if you find it satisfactory, if not, feel free to dump it out the window. Again, so sorry for disturbing you Captain, sir, but I hope your evening goes well.”

And then you had left.

And Levi’s curiosity was piqued. Who were you, to be so bold as to feel entitled to his time? A lowly kitchen staff?  You thought of yourself so highly, thought you knew him well enough to know how he took his tea? Pretentious.

But still, he found himself raising the cup to his lips, taking a sip, testing the taste. And admittedly, you didn’t know how he fixed his own tea. You had made it too sweet, with too much honey. The sweetness burned his tongue, scorched his throat far worse than hot water ever could.

He liked it.

Levi found himself seeking you out, finding out from the head cook who the kitchen staff were, who you were. When you worked, which barracks you stayed in, if you were always kind and sweet to rude people you didn’t even know.

You were surprised when the head cook had told you that Levi asked for more tea.

Of course, you brought it to him.

And at first, he never talked to you. He just watched you set down his tea, watched you give a small wave and a friendly, respectful curtsy before leaving.

Then he asked you to bring yourself a cup the next night, to sit with him.

Since it was Captain Levi, you couldn’t refuse.

Of course you were a bit intimidated - had you been doing something wrong? Was he going to fire you? But the man had said few words, just sipped his tea, watched as you blew at your own steaming cup.

It was an uncomfortable affair, at least for you, so it was surprising to you that he kept asking you to sit with him.

You start to see him often, more often than you previously had.  He lingers in the mess hall, taking meals at the high ranks tables, and you always feel his eyes on you when you bring out more food to place on the buffet-style tables at the front. You often found him heading for seconds when you were adding food to the table, and he often said hello in his gruff, curt way.

Captain Levi was seen patrolling the area near the staff barracks, checking windows, checking doors, making sure everything was proper and safe. You could feel his presence, see his shadow sometimes when he passed by the window.

Between mealtimes, when you weren’t washing dishes or helping to prepare for the next meal, you were allowed breaks. You spent these breaks reading, or taking short walks along the inside of the garrison walls. It spooked you when you began seeing Levi nearby, apparently deciding to train the cadets near your common reading spots, or sometimes appearing suddenly during one of your walks.

He’d walk with you, not uttering a word, just strolling beside you in silence. You didn’t try to speak - he didn’t seem to be looking for conversation, simply companionship. And his presence, while unsettling, wasn’t entirely unwelcome - you knew that Captain Levi was one of the most capable fighters in the Survey Corps, and no Titan nor human would be able to hurt you unless he allowed it.

Despite his bitter demeanor, it was easy to see how much Levi cared for his underlings well-being. Always trying to make sure they were safe, risking his own life for them, pushing them to the brink and beyond during training so he could ensure that they could defend themselves during an attack.

The awkward tea-time turned into small chats, were Levi asked you about your home, your hobbies, your likes and dislikes.

Surprisingly, Levi didn’t shy away from answering when you yourself asked the same questions.

You became privy to his rough upbringing, the tragedy of his mother, the few friends he had made and lost.

The more the two of you talked, the more you understood his rough exterior, why he was cynical and brusque and mean.

But he became softer with you.

You weren’t sure when comfortable companionship, tentative friendship, had turned into unpleasant touches, quiet confessions, time spent together that you began to loathe and tried to avoid.

But some part of you understood, and felt bad.

Levi had never known someone in an intimate sense. Not like this, not like you. He could force you to submit to him, it could be an ordeal of tears and blood and despair for both of you, but if you went along with his whims willingly, the both of you were spared the pain.

Yes, you experienced discomfort, and unease, and you weren’t entirely happy about some of the things Levi asked of you, but you knew the man was tired, and hurting, and desperate for soft words and kind touches.

The man had wanted simple favors at first. A touch here, a light brush of his hand on your shoulder or a lingering caress of your hand if it rested on the table. Then it was sitting closer together, letting him brush your hair away from your face, his hand finding a home on the plush skin of your thigh as you two talked.

Then it was his late-night confessions, when he kept you past curfew, after the tea cups had long been dry. He told you how he wanted…. You. He wasn’t sure what it was that he needed, but it had to be from you.

He would take it, force it from you, whether it was sex or feelings or some twisted desire. He could, and both of you knew that he had the skills to completely subdue you.

But you caved immediately, feeling like a crumb of bread in the face of a raven.

Satisfied with your answer, the man had taken you that night, slowly peeled off your clothes and laid you on his bed like a lover. He had noticed your trembling, the tears clouding your vision, and he could tell this wasn’t something that you wanted to willingly give to him.

But he took anyway.

He had never allowed himself to be selfish, to want things for himself, to afford thinking thoughts of a loving partner, kindness and gentle treatment with his rude and brash personality.

Levi had made it good for you - he had bedded women before, to sate his physical desires when they so rarely arose. But with you, unlike those other women, he wanted you to stay in his life, be there for him when he craved the sweetness you provided in your tea, in your body, in you. He wanted you to be his constant, the person he could turn to, always.

And so you where.

You were when he pulled you into his quarters at odd hours, just to share heated kisses and let his hands wander across your flesh.

At times when he was frustrated, angry, and needed a rough fuck to find his calm again.

Whenever Levi needed to feel the heat of another’s body, to experience pleasure and love and feelings of warmth and desire, you were the person he turned to.

It’s why he turned to you now.

“I’d like to hold you.” It was more of a command, an order, than a question.

Shuffling on the bed, you scooted back so he could sit down, so he could gently push your shoulders so you fell back onto the pillows. The man crawled closer, flopping down beside you with a tired, wretched sigh, one that made your bones ache in sympathy.

You were so used to the Captain taking what he wanted, you didn’t even cringe when an arm was slung over your chest, grabbing you, pulling you close to him. He buried his face in your neck, throwing a leg over your hip and an arm over your waist, completely plastering himself to your side.

The sounds of your breathing filled the room - your uneasy, disturbed rhythm accompanying his rapid, shuddering breaths.

It was only when wetness smear across your neck, did you realize that the man was crying.

You knew how that could feel, lungs burning, shoulders aching, heart squeezed and deadened in your chest. How you longed for comfort, for someone to hold you and soothe the pain.

So you tentatively drew your own hand around his slim shoulders, your other hand rising to play with a strand of thin hair, drawing him closer to you.

In some twisted, pathetic turn, you felt sorry for the man.

Sorry that he felt such pain, such anguish. Sorry that so much responsibility rested on his shoulders. The responsibility of keeping his soldiers alive, of protecting humanity, of fighting in life-or-death situations where he was forced to watch his comrades be torn to shreds. Sorry that he was stressed, that the world had beaten him down and never allowed him a quiet, easy life.

Most of all, you think you were sorry that he asked things of you that you weren’t comfortable in answering.

How do you tell a killing machine no? How does one go about turning away a sad, lost soul looking for company and warmth? How would you live with yourself if you put your own comfort higher than a man who was so integral to the continuation of humanity’s existence?

You could deal with the gross feelings in order to be of service.

It always surprised you, how a man so interested in cleanliness could make you feel so dirty.

Considerable time passed before Levi’s shaky, silent sobs evolved into normal breathing. He had cried his tears, let his sadness overflow in the safety of your arms.

Now he was content to hold you, to grip your form with such intensity that you were sure you’d have bruises along your waist.

You feel asleep like that, his arms tight around you, trapping your body close to his, making you feel every rise and fall of his chest, every steady beat of his heart.

——-

You woke up to movement.

It was still night, it must be, with the lit candles still burning at the bedside.

Levi was slowly grinding against you, his leg still slung over your hip, hard length rubbing against your stomach. You could feel a tiny hint of wetness seeping through your shirt, meaning Levi must’ve been at this a while to have leaked enough to soak through not only his own pants, but your shirt as well.

“(Y/N)…” He breathed, noticing you had stirred awake. A breathy sigh escaped the man, before his hips stopped moving. “Suck me off.”

Still half-asleep and blinking your eyes, you only managed to look at your captain, dazed.

A slow smile spread across his face as he took in your sleepy expression, but then he nudged your side again, insistent. “Suck me off, you got me all hard and now I’ve ruined my pants.”

As if it were fault that he was like this.

Finally registering his request, you moved down the bed to the man’s crotch, helping him shimmy off his sleep pants and underwear as you did so.

His cock wasn’t girthy, nor particularly long. It was pretty though, with a flushed tip, a pale base, and fat, firm balls underneath.

Without further ado, you set your mouth on him, gathering spit to slicken his length (not that you needed to, not with how much the man had leaked) before slowly making your way down. Drawing back a bit, you sucked at the crown,  cringing a bit at how Levi’s entire cock twitched, the man drawing in a sharp inhale.

He was particularly sensitive there, just under the head, so you flicked your tongue against that spot a few times, heard him hiss in pleasure, before slurping back down along his length, taking him as far down your throat as you could manage.

Levi couldn’t help the rocking of his hips, the twitches of his cock. “Touch my balls (Y/N), please.”

You were surprised to hear him say please. He only offered such niceties when he was in a vulnerable, soft mood.  His balls were plump, round, full to bursting with sperm. The skin was velvety soft as your rubbed at it, massaging the mounds with your palms, before rubbing over them quickly with the tips of your fingers.

Levi groaned, a hand clutching at the strands of your hair to anchor himself.

It was an uncomfortable feeling. You never liked when he touched you, and you never enjoyed touching him, but you bore it with no complaint, let him do as he pleased without a fight. Submission was easier.

His cock kept pulsing in your mouth, making you gag and choke around his length, which only seemed to draw him more pleasure. Despite the discomfort, you still did your best, hollowing your cheeks out to suck, hard.

Levi’s hips bucked up unexpectedly, hitting the back of your throat so quickly that you almost threw up with the intensity, immediately pulling off of his length with a hacking cough.

You let it rest against your cheek as you regained your breath, feeling it drool and twitch as if it were alive and hungry.

Levi let you rest; he knew you’d take him back into your mouth in a second, always eager to obey him.

And you did, sucking him with renewed vigor. The taste of his cock wasn’t entirely unpleasant, Levi kept himself clean and trimmed, so there was only the slightest hint of natural musk, but that was easily overwhelmed by the bitter taste of soap and the salty taste of sweat and skin.

Then Levi tugged your hair a bit, drawing your attention away from his cock and up to his face. “Slow down, I don’t want to cum too soon.”

He was in the mood to draw this out it seemed. You eased up on the suction of your cheeks, letting your cheeks go with a smacking sound. Apparently that felt good, since Levi sighed, rolling his head back to rest on the pillows.

The picture of relaxed pleasure.

Going slower now, you paused to let his length slip out of your mouth, giving the sides long, sensual licks, digging your tongue into the slit at the top.

You’d suck him back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his length, before popping off again, this time going for his well-groomed balls, slathering them with spit as you lapped at the skin.

Eventually, you grew tired, your jaw sore. It’s not like you wanted to do this in the first place, but now you were physically feeling ache-y.

Taking him into your mouth one last time, you dug deep, sucking vigorously at his length, drawing him down your throat, trying to get him to the edge as quick as you could.

And it worked, because the next thing you knew, a spurt of cum hit your tongue.

With a gag at the taste, you whipped your head back, Levi’s cock falling out of your mouth. But with his grip still in your hair, he kept your head close, watching his cum stripe across your face with satisfaction.

Levi was breathing heavily, almost panting as he finished, and you were glad you had closed your eyes - you didn’t want to see the look on his face, eyes filled with an emotion you didn’t want to label.

At least he was kind afterwards, helped you clean it up.

His tea was still sitting on the nightstand, long gone cold. Levi offered you a sip still, and you readily accepted the liquid, soothing your throat

When you settled down again, face now washed and free of cum, Levi once again pulled you close to him. This time, his chin rested atop your head, his hands cradling your head to his chest.

You felt gentle vibrations as he hummed softly, and you internally thanked him for small mercies - not having you strip tonight, not fucking you, not making you feel good.

There was such guilt when he pleasured you. How could something unwanted feel so good? There must be something wrong with you, to get off on his ministrations.

It was easier for you to not dwell on those feelings.

Easier to just lay in Levi’s arms, and listen to the beat of his heart.

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 3

Training

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis: y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter summery: y/n starts training at Hydra and dicovers the other side of Bucky

warnings: violence

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

A little buzz sounded as my cell drew open, the chamber opposites sat empty. My head turned slightly to see a gruff man walk in, electrified baton in hand. I knew to be careful when they carried one of those.

"Up." Was all he said, hand wrapping around the metal cuffs and yanking me to my feet before he was dragging me through the desolate corridor.

It was strangely quiet - the past month the cells had been full, SHIELD agents and enemies of HYDRA clogging up the little glass rooms with blood stain clothes and bruised faces. I guess they'd been disposed of, and that though sent a chill down my spine. Is that how I was to end?

His hand pushed roughly between my shoulder blades, one foot falling over the other in a stumble as I fell into the room, the guard stepping in behind me and letting the heavy metal door slam shut with a threatening thud. The man I had first met when he smiled grimly at me once my alterations had first been completed was waiting with a smug grin - a sickening expression a rarely saw him without unless it was replaced with one of rage. I had come to know him simply as 'General'.

"Good afternoon, Miss Stark." He grinned, waving his hand menacing to motion me forward. I did as I was told, plodding forward tentatively until I was stood before him. A wince escaped me as he rough grabbed my chin, pulling it between his thumb and finger to tilt my head back so my gaze bored into his. "We are starting your training today." He stated, his free hand reaching around to unclasp the metal contraption laid over my mouth.

He tossed it to the bench that stood next to him before he raked a hand through my greasy hair, pushing the tangled locks out of my face. He seemed to observe me for a moment, letting his eyes wander over my body - which was clad in some simple black tactical suit - before landing back on my eyes again.

"You will be fighting the winter soldier every day for at least two hours. This training will only stop once you have beat him, and once this happens, we'll know you are ready to be released into the world." The General explained, letting go of my chin and giving me a nudge towards the centre of the room. It was only then that I saw the soldier standing there.

But he was not my comfort buddy. This version of him was rough, cruel looking. His teeth were bared, chest heaving and nostrils were flared. His bicep bulged against the leather of his suit and his face was set in a ruthless scowl. I gulped, meekly making my way to stand in front of him.

"Begin." Was all the general had to say before the soldier was on me, metal fist flying for my head in a fast punch. I ducked just in time, scurrying to the other side of him and taking the time to think.

I begun to hum a hypnotising tune, in hopes of stopping the lug of a man preparing to hit me harder this time, but with no luck. Distracted, his fist collided with my stomach this time, sucking the air from my lungs and lurching my backwards until my ass connected with the ground. I groaned loudly, rubbing my sore stomach as I tried humming again. All the while the soldier advanced on me, taking heavy step before his Chucky boat was connecting with my side.

"You may found his mind is much...stronger than a usual human's." The general smirked and my eyes widened as I quickly flipped onto my front, desperately attempting to crawl away. But I had no luck, the feeling of the soldier's gloved hand made me cry out as it gripped my hip and pulled me backwards harshly before his metal hand curled around my throat. He hoisted me up it the air, turning my small body in his hands as if I were as light as paper before slamming my head backwards into the wall, hand still tight around my neck.

My legs kicked aimlessly in the air, hands clawing frantically at his own as he repeated slammed my head backwards against the concrete.

"Enough!" The general barked as I felt my eyes rolling back, consciousness falling from my grasp. The soldier released me, my limp body falling the the floor at his feet as I coughed and spluttered. The soldier tune Ed away, walking to the centre of the room as I gasped for air and leant forward on my hands, retching at the ground from all fours. "Again!"

My eyes widened in realisation and I began to scramble to my feet, but the ominous footsteps reached my first and before I could utter a single word my body was crushed to the floor, the soldier's thick thighs straddling my own - tapping my arms at my sides too - to stop my from flailing.

The impact of his metal fist crashing against the side of my face burst my lips open and the wet trickle of blood down my chin made me shiver. Then it hit again and I cried out, a stinging echoing across the right side of my face. I could feel the flow of blood from my nose and the tangy taste of it on my tongue as it infiltrated my mouth, sliding over my lips.

I started to slip away, ready to let the pain take me when I heard the word boomed again.

"Enough!" The soldier pulled away instantly, pushing up from my thighs and thudding back across to the centre of the room again. A dizziness washed over me, and I soon came to realise that it would be a long time before I beat him. Then the dreaded word was ordered, reaching a groan from me as I climbed onto shaking feet, this time raising my aching arms and dusting my hands in order to attempt to block him: "Again."

... You'd think that was the worst part, huh? Well, guess again. What the general had definitely failed to leave out was the punishment for losing. For each game I lost, I earned myself five strikes.

When our first session was up, I was quickly escorted out - not before they replaced my silencer (that's what I opted to call it) - and dragged to another new room. This one also stood bare, only housing a single wooden pillar that stood around my own height that housed a round metal cuff of either side about half way up. I sealed thickly, eyeing the cuffs with fear and hesitation as I was shoved forwards until I was stood before the wood.

"Kneel." That order was spat at me, and the baton in the guard's hand made me oblige quickly, sinking to my knees before it and grimacing at the uneven gravel under my knees that bit into my skin even through my suit. He silently walked over to me, grabbing my wrists one at a time and locking them into the cuffs - nothing gentle about it. The jingle of his key was like nails on a chalkboard in my ears as he slipped my back into his belt and walked away.

The door was slung open, loud footsteps approaching me before an unsettling breath was at my ear.

"Maybe after this, you'll actually try to win tomorrow." The general gritted out, the cold tip on a knife hooking into the top on my suit and poking the back of my neck making me flinch. I gasped suddenly as he yanked the blade down, slitting the suit down the back and cutting it free of my arms until the fabric bunched at my waist. My sports bra was next to go, leaving me feeling humiliated as I felt the watchful eyes of both the general and the guards on my bared breast and nipples which were leaked from the cold.

I felt humiliated, knelt with my wrists bound and my top half naked in a room full of much less than honourable men in a place I didn't know. I flinched again when I heated the whip crack in the air, the general flicking the leather around in order to test it out.

"Why don't you count for me, princess?" He mocked, the sinister laughter of the guards adding to his at the sexual inference and my bottom lips quivered. The snap of the leather against my back sent a scream through me, snuffed out by the silencer. My body quaked and my eyes pooled with stinging tears as they became bloodshot red. Sweat broke out on my forehead as the once again sickening feeling of blood trickling down my skin filled my senses.

One, I counted in my head and a second later, the second hit harder than the first.

[rivers-rambles21]

The one where you’re both idiots

Part 8 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from  a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different  point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

This is my favourite chapter so far as we’ll start seeing the events of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier impact the story more.

Chapter 8 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

“How was your session with the world’s worst therapist?” You asked as you started unpacking your groceries. You’d run into Bucky on your way home from picking up a few things for your evening meal and had invited him inside with the offer of a home cooked meal. 

Taking the milk from you, he helped put your items away as he pondered his response. “Same as always, she asks about the nightmares, I lie to her and she starts writing on that damned notepad.” Taking a tomato from the bag, he snuck one into his mouth and put the rest away, giving him a second to think before continuing. He’d been at your apartment that many times by now he knew where everything lived.

Hoisting himself up onto the kitchen countertop, he sat in his usual spot as he watched you busy around, pulling your utensils out ready to cook. “She also brought up how alone I am.” Despite his efforts, his voice broke slightly, something that you didn’t fail to notice. 

“Well that’s a load of bull” You scoffed as you turned to face him, opening your arms wide. “You’ve got me!” 

He smiled back at you, his face lightening up. “That I do doll, that I do.” 

Satisfied, you turned your back on him once again and began washing the vegetables. 

“I had lunch with Yori,” He continued.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah...  I’ve also got a… got a date tomorrow” Your hands froze as you felt your heart break, your stomach twisting into knots. A second later you composed yourself and continued with the task at hand, rubbing your hands over the mushrooms repeatedly. 

“Oh.” You remarked, not trusting your voice to say anything further. 

“Yeah, Yori kind of set it up. I tried to explain there was a bit of a dance to this sort of thing but he went ahead with it anyway.” Bucky had missed your reaction when he’d told you about the date and proceeded to pick up one of your kitchen knives, twirling it between his fingers as a distraction. 

Those seconds were all you needed to compose yourself as you shut off the water and began chopping the veg up, mentally preparing your response in your head. “Well it’s good to get out there, when was the last time you had a date?” 

“1942 Stark Expo” He replied with no hesitation. You turned on your heel and gestured towards the cupboard above Bucky's head. With a smile, instead of moving aside, he spread his legs for you to step into. For a second, his smile made you forget what he’d just told you and you were back to it just being you and him, no mystery woman who you feared would take him from you. 

“Lazy shit.” You muttered as you stepped between his open legs swinging the cupboard door open and reaching up for a can. 

For Bucky, he was enjoying the view. Your top had risen and he had a perfect view of your stomach, begging to be kissed. 

As you placed the can on the counter beside him and searched for the opener something suddenly dawned on you. “Does that mean you’ve not gotten laid since 1942?” Your eyes met his and he chuckled in response. 

Picking up the can, he jabbed his knife into it and expertly cut into the lid, opening it with ease. Handing it back to you he shot you another smile. 

“Believe it or not, courting women in the 1940’s was a bit different. Girls didn’t fuck outside of marriage as they do now, and if they did it was a rarity. But, that didn’t mean both of you couldn’t get off if you put other things to use.” He smirked back at you as your jaw dropped, mouth hanging open at his honesty. Not quite knowing what to do with that information you turned back to the stove, your cheeks flushed from not just the heat. 

“Well… I’m sure your date tomorrow will be a welcome relief.” 

“Eh… She's a nice girl and all but I don’t see it going anywhere. Beer?” 

“Oh, um yes please.” A few moments later you heard your fridge open and close and the sound of bottle lids going into the trash. Leaving your beer to the side, he resumed his previous position and continued watching you cook. 

“When was the last time you saw any action?” Bucky wasn’t sure why he asked in all honesty, he’d rather not know as just picturing you with anyone else drove him mad. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You laughed. “No but seriously I think it’s been two years now?” Taking a swig of your beer you leant against the counter and faced him. “Oh god, it’s been seven. I forgot about the blip. Holy shit.” Grabbing your beer again, you took a few more gulps, enjoying the liquid running down your throat. 

Despite not really wanting to know the answer, Bucky found himself slightly pleased you’d not been with anyone in a while for purely selfish reasons. 

The rest of the evening was spent eating good food and watching TV, something which Bucky didn’t take for granted. He’d only told his therapist part of the truth. When he was alone with you, enjoying each other's company, talking about nothing and everything, he felt calm - content. 

The following day Bucky didn't hear from Y/N at all and his date went as he expected. The girl was nice, charming even but he didn’t feel a connection. He felt bad for lying about his gloves and even worse when she brushed off his comment around his age. Yori was the last straw and he had to get out of there. The guilt was overwhelming, suffocating and heavy. He’d rushed over to Yori’s place with the intention of confessing his sins but something held him back. It wasn’t the first time he’d hesitated, something about him just made him stop every time. Maybe it was the fact that Yori was a friend, someone who seemed to understand his odd quirks, put up with his grumpiness and still wanted to be around him. Then again, maybe he only did that as he got a free meal out of it.

He found himself back at his apartment building, banging on Y/N’s door, praying you were home. But he was met with silence.

He spent the rest of the night watching TV, drinking as many beers as he could before he eventually passed out, either out of boredom or tiredness, the mental battering he’d taken finally taking its toll. 

It wasn’t until the following evening he finally saw you. The sound of bags dropping to the floor as you muttered explicits under your breath whilst searching for your keys was undeniably you. 

Without a second thought, he opened his door, eager to see you. 

“Hey doll”

Turning your heel, you faced him. “Oh hey Buck”

“Lost your key again?” He remarked, smirking. 

“As usual” You muttered, finally finding them amongst the junk in your purse. 

“I was worried about you y’know.” Your head snapped up, eyes meeting his piercing blues as he stared back at you. “You didn’t come home last night, it’s not very…. You. Who is he?”

A laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “She is called Lauri and I just ended up staying over.” You tried to make yourself sound as convincing as possible, knowing deep down you hadn’t wanted to overhear any late night activities if his date had in fact gone well.

“Oh. Oh!” His eyes went wide when he thought he’d realised something but couldn’t have been further from the truth. “Well, I hope she’s treating you right.” 

And he truly meant it. Despite pining after you these past few months, your happiness was his priority, regardless of how desperately he wanted to be the one fulfilling that for you. 

You slowly opened your door with your back to him, trying to suppress a grin. “Way off the mark there Buck, although I’m pretty sure she would show me a great time, it’s not like that. We’re just friends.” 

The small sigh of relief that left his lips as he processed what you said, making you pause for a moment. Surely he wasn’t happy that you - ? No, impossible. 

“Fair enough.” He replied, coughing to hide a slight choke. 

“Do you want to come in?” You asked, opening your door wide for him to enter. With a gentle smile he nodded, closing his own door behind him he walked into your apartment. You tried your best to not notice the way his t-shirt hugged his body in all the best ways, tightening around his broad shoulders before delving down to his biceps, the metal of his arm reflecting the light from the hallway. You said a silent prayer before following him in, urging your eyes to stop flitting back to his body and the way his jeans fitted around his tight- no Y/N, no. 

You followed him further into your small apartment as he settled on the couch whilst you put your bag into your bedroom. Pulling the door, you gave yourself some privacy as you pulled some loungewear from your drawers before sliding your top off over your head. “How did your date go?” You asked. You’d prepared it over and over again in your head, testing your tone and delivery to avoid him picking up on the nervousness you felt asking the question. 

“Disaster, I let half way through.” 

Your eyes unintentionally lit up as you unfastened your bra, throwing it into the laundry basket in the corner of your room. “Jesus Buck, what did she do?”

You heard a shuffle coming from your living room, Bucky no doubt playing with the thread coming off your couch as he usually did when he was deep in thought. “It just didn’t feel natural y’know? I wasn’t comfortable with her, I couldn’t be myself, and then she brought up Yori and I-” He couldn’t quite finish his sentence and grunted as he struggled to find the words. Not needing to hear any more, you finished getting changed into your clothes and went back into the living room, plonking yourself down next to him. 

“Well first off, not cool leaving half way through. But… this is New York so I'm pretty sure she’ll have been on worse dates.” You joked, trying to lighten the mood. Bringing your sock clad feet up onto the couch, you stretched your leg out and prodded the man beside you, prompting him to turn and face you. “You’ll tell him whenever you’re ready. For now though, focus on the positive. You went on a date with a girl…. Regardless of how short said date was” You covered your mouth as you giggled, his eyes rollg only forcing more laughs from you. Taking enough of your teasing, Bucky took action and tossed one of your many cushions towards you, landing squarely in your face knocking you back.

“Dick!” you squealed.

“Brat”

[secret-rendezvous1d]

YESS!! OMG!! your recent post ... a prompt where he gets out and he’s just trying to get used to the normal life again and one day he has like a break down at their apartment and when yn comes back from work her heart just breaks :( she comforts him and tells him how much she loves, cares, and missed him and he just feels so loved after being in prison for a long time and not really loving who he is in there

Oh, god. Sweet baby-

Mess.

When she stepped foot through the front door, she tripped over an overturned book that had somehow ended up in the entryway of their apartment. Her brow furrowing in confusion because it was a rather inconspicuous place to leave an open book... but, as she looked in a little further into their home, her eyes were met with an empty bookcase and a floor full of books that were open and face-down and seemingly thrown haphazardly. 

It was a mess.

When she closed the door and picked up the books in her path, rounding the corner into their living room, she was greeted with smashed glass and a broken lamp that laid shattered upon the linoleum wood of their floor-plan. A lightbulb crunching under her footsteps, ceramic turning to dust beneath her shoes and she caught the toe of her trainer against the covered wire that had been torn free from the plug still in the wall socket. 

It was a mess.

Her first thought was that they’d been robbed, as anyone would think if they saw what YN had seen upon her arrival home. That someone had broken into their home and taken some of their most valuable possessions and smashed up their belongings because destruction was all these criminals lived for to show a dominance they only dreamed of having. Expecting her jewellery to have gone missing, her second set of credentials, her photos overturned and her drawers completely ransacked.

But a tiny sniffle and a wet cough muffled behind the bedroom door brought her back to reality and she wanted to laugh at herself - Spencer had been at home all day so how the heck would a robber even make it through the door and be as silent in this amount of ruckus? 

“Spencer?”

She taps her knuckles against the wood of the bedroom door and wrapped her hand around the knob, twisting it and slowly pushing it open, a creak filling the silence of the house. Not really sure of what she was expecting, hoping for the best and expecting the worst so she was prepared on both ends.

But the bedroom was empty and there was a huge contrast to the living room; the bed was still neatly made and the bedside lamps were still intact and their clothes weren’t thrown on the floor from the open doors of the wardrobe. One of her sweaters was missing, she could see from the empty hanger that was swinging on the rail, and she could feel a pit in her stomach beginning to form. But she felt a wash of relief over her because it was far from a break-in and her mind felt a little more at ease given that she wasn’t a victim in her own home.

There was still a sense of unease though... over her loving boyfriend.

“Spencer?”

“YN?”

Her name comes out in a whimper, almost surprised at the sudden presence of his girlfriend, spoken in question. A soft, wet and shaky whimper that he most definitely would have considered pathetic if he heard himself speak with a tone. The bathroom door was open, with just a slither at the frame, and the light was switched on and she didn’t understand how she’d missed it when she entered the bedroom - she wasn’t really looking there yet so she blamed the ignorance on the matter. 

When she opened the door, he was in the bathtub. His long legs bent up to his chest, arms holding them to his body with his socked feet pushing against the side of the tub, her sweater draped over his legs and clutched in a tight fist like it would disappear if it touched the floor after he dropped it. His cheeks were red, his eyes were bloodshot and his lips were bitten raw and his hair looked messy and like it had been pulled over time. 

“Spencer-”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. And it’s broken. He looks broken. His eyes innocent and lost and she hated seeing him like that; this wasn’t the Spencer she knew and it most definitely wasn’t the same Spencer she had picked up from prison after he was freed. This was the shell of a man she once knew, someone she longed to have back, someone she loved with all her heart and felt heartbroken by the changes he was forced to make to survive. “I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head and swallows back a lump in her throat, climbing into the tub beside him and laying an arm over his shoulders, pulling him into her side.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Spence.”

“I trashed our house,” he scoffs heavily and it’s filled with tears, “I-”

“That doesn’t matter, baby. We can buy new lamps and we can buy new bulbs and some new books, Spence. That’s all material stuff that we can replace. But, we can’t buy a new you,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and inhaling the sweet scent of her own shampoo that clung to the curled strands of his hair, “I don’t want to replace you.”

There’s a sob that breaks free from his chest. A loud, guttural sob that shook his body to the core and she swore it brought tears to her eyes. It wasn’t the upset he was feeling, it wasn’t the stress he was going through and it wasn’t because of the changes he needed to get used to... it was the sob that tore her to bits. A dribble of tears leaking down her cheeks.

“You won’t have to.”

“Good,” she smiles wetly and he looks up at her, “I missed you. I missed you all the time and-”

“I missed you, too.”

His forehead bumps against hers and his eyes shut in contentment, his warm breathing flushing over her face, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks with both palms, thumbs brushing over his wet cheeks to wipe away the falling tears and the moisture that was left behind in their tracks.

“Whoever you were in there, whatever you did, it’s over. You never have to go to that place again, you never have to think about it again, you never have to think about leaving me or our home or the team again,” she presses a kiss to one of his wet cheeks and then presses another kiss to his other cheek, “you’re back here, you’re safe, you’re not on your own anymore. I’m right here. I hated seeing you in there, I hated thinking about you in there and I could see how you hated being stuck in there as an innocent man.”

An eye peeks open and looks at her.

“We knew you were innocent. I knew you were. I’m never leaving you, okay? I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to go somewhere,” she nuzzles her nose to his as he grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners and squinting up and it’s the first proper smile she’s seen from him in a long, long time. “I love you, Spencer Reid. And I’ll love you, always.” 

“Thank you for trusting me, for believing me, for staying here and standing by my side.”

His lips look inviting to her and all she’s wanted to do, from the moment he came home, was kiss him for every second they missed together and she takes that opportunity without letting another minute go missing and cups his face in her palms. Tasting the salt from his tears and feeling the moisture from his tears on her own lips, hard and deep and one that had pent up emotions behind it. A kiss he had longed to have, one that he wouldn’t take advantage of, a fear in his chest because he didn’t want one kiss to be their last. 

“I really do love you, YN.” xx

[rifleseye]

Perceptor's in the middle of organizing his team's schedule for next month when he hears Megatron's voice at the door. He tenses up, grimacing to himself. He closes his eyes for a moment, exventing heavily to dispel at least some of the anger that flared all at once. He clears his voice, " Come in. "

The door slides open for the ex-con, and Perceptor straightens up in his chair, resting one hand atop the other on his desk. He trains his face, a neutral expression with a cold glint in his one visible eye.

Yes, he has been waiting for a conversation with him. He doubts Megatron has come to him about what had happened during the... Brainstorm Incident, but he has full intentions of making his displeasure known. Wait for an opening. (Conversation is much like looking down the sight of a rifle in much the same way.)

" What is it you want to converse about? "

@rifleseye

Perhaps it's a fool's errand, but the notion of such doesn't falter Megatron's step as he approaches Perceptor's lab. The request he has is tremendous, one he expects to be met with rejection or an explanation of impossibility — either one, he anticipates an inquiry about ulterior motives. After all, it is suspect for him to want to improve the quality and longevity of his life.

Regardless, low outcomes still meant a chance, and far be it from him to squander a potential opportunity with one of Cybertron's most elite scientists. Arrogant, maybe. Others might call it hope.

Megatron halts at the door rather than entering unexpectedly, politeness not lost on him despite his reputation. Raising a fist, he raps his knuckles on the door. "Perceptor?" he calls, believing his voice should give him away, "If you have time, I'd like to have a conversation."

The likelihood of success, he knows, will increase if he can at least make it through the door.

[jeonsjiddies]

Like I'm Gonna Lose You | jhs (m)

Summary - After a terrifying dream, you decide to show Hoseok how much he means to you.

Word Count - 3346

Pairing - Hoseok x reader

Genre - smut

Warnings - nightmares, mentions of death(in nightmare), assault (in nightmare) dirty talk, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, implied sex

a/n: another re-write from a previous fandom. :)

You were running, running as fast as your legs could carry you, but you weren’t moving. You were stuck in place, frozen. You pushed and pulled and tried to break free but you were bonded to the muddy grass. Hoseok stood up ahead, blissfully unaware of what was happening. You screamed, you screamed until your lungs burned but no sound escaped your lips. Your silence in that moment would haunt you until your dying breath. The panic rising in your throat made it hard to breathe. No, no no!

“HOBI! RUN! PLEASE!” you tried to warn him.

You tried. But it wasn’t enough. You didn’t save him. The masked killers came out from the shadows like flashes of lighting, silent and deadly. It took five of them to hold Hoseok down. He kicked and thrashed and screamed and fought but he was outnumbered. They pinned your boyfriend down, digging into his pockets and holding his own switchblade in the air. It caught a ray of light and shone in the dark, damp forest. He tried to pry his way out of their relentless grip, to no avail. You felt like you were going to throw up. You used every bit of strength you had to try and release from whatever invisible hold you were in, but nothing worked. It felt like tree limbs had grown up from the soggy dirt and wrapped themselves around your legs, your arms. You were trapped, a caged animal. Just like Hoseok. He couldn’t escape either.

The switchblade was held in the air, then thrust down into Hoseok’s chest. He cried out in agony, and so did you. You were being held captive, forced to watch the worst horror movie you could possibly imagine: the death of the love of your life. Dark red filled the fabric on his favorite flannel shirt and you choked on your sobs, as one of the masked men continued to pull the knife out, then sink it back into Hoseok’s flesh, over and over and over again until he stopped struggling. He looked over at you in his final moments, eyes locked with yours. You were the last thing he saw before his body went limp and the men screeched out a victory.

“One freak down. Let’s move boys,” the leader grinned with no remorse.

As soon as they were gone, the invisible cage you were locked in vanished and you rushed to Hoseok’s side, throwing yourself on his lifeless body as the sobs racked through yours.

“No no NO!” you screamed. “I tried to warn you baby, I tried to save you. I couldn’t fucking move! I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Please come back to me. PLEASE HOBI!”

The silence that answered you was deafening, and you could literally feel your heart shattering in your chest, little pieces of the broken thing falling into the pit of your stomach. You were covered in his blood, and it was on your hands. You didn’t save him.

You woke up, gasping for air. You sat in your bed, breathing heavily. There were already tears on your cheeks, and remembering that awful dream you’d just escaped, more tears poured from your eyes and your body shook with sobs. You looked next to you, where Hoseok was sound asleep. He had a small smile on his lips, and you watched his chest rise and fall with the intake of air, your heart stilling in your chest. Just a dream. It was just a dream. Your hand tenderly found his face, and you caressed his tan skin, with the light stubble he refused to shave. He said it made him feel manlier.

You giggled to yourself, replaying that conversation in your head, and the burning in your stomach started again. You choked back tears to no avail, because they sprang from your eyes again. What if you really lost him? What if you couldn’t wake up next to him anymore? You couldn’t fathom a life without the sweet, lively, hardworking and loveable man. You bit down hard on your bottom lip to try and stop crying, but it was no use. You loved him so much, and the thought of losing him just made you want to die yourself.

“Y/N?” he groggily asked, one eye opening to peek at you, “why are you awake?”

“I just had a freaky dream,” you tried to sound normal so you didn’t worry him, but your voice shook.

He immediately sat up, turning so his body was facing you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern laced in his voice.

You couldn’t take it anymore, you broke down in sobs, and he gathered you into his arms without missing a beat. He held you close while you cried into his chest. He gently rubbed your back, trying to soothe you. You weren’t sure which feeling was more overwhelming at that point: the sheer terror of ever losing him or the blissful relief that you hadn’t, that he was still here with you, alive and holding you in those safe warm arms you called home. He kissed the top of your head and rocked you back and forth until you’d calmed down enough to explain why you had burst into hysterics at 3am.

“Wanna tell me what happened, baby?” he asked softly.

“I had a dream you died,” you explained.

“It was just a dream, I’m right here. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Hobi , it’s not funny.” you sniffled.

“What happened in the dream?” he coaxed, sensing you needed to talk about it.

“Gosh Hobi, it was awful. We were in the forest,” you began, spelling out all the gory details for your boyfriend, who listened intently and let you talk.

“That’s intense,” he finally said when you’d finished, barely fighting off tears as you relayed the dream to him.

You nodded, reaching over and grabbing a tissue from the nightstand, wiping your eyes and blowing your nose, not caring how unattractive it was. You were fragile and felt like any wrong move could shatter you right then.

“Baby, I know that was scary, but it wasn’t real. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere,” he assured you, holding you close. “Do you want to try and go back to sleep?”

“Can we cuddle?”

Hobi nodded, laying down and opening his arms for you. You snuggled close to him, letting the sound of his beating heart drown out all the fears inside you. You fell asleep with his warmth wrapped around you, and his heart singing your favorite lullaby.

Even though you were exhausted, you woke up before Hobi; and even though the dream wasn’t real, the possibility was. You’d decided that you were going to treat him like a king, like it was the last moment you’d ever spend together. You were going to treat every day like your last day with him. You were going to love him like you were going to lose him.

You slipped out of bed quietly, tiptoeing into the kitchen, being as quiet as you could while you made his favorite breakfast. The aroma of the food filled the whole apartment, and it was making your mouth water. You fixed Hobi a plate and put it on a tray with orange juice and carried it into the bedroom, setting it on your bedside table. You climbed into bed, peppering soft kisses all over his face, gently waking him from his slumber.

“Mmmm…” he smiled, eyes opening and focusing on you, “good morning beautiful.”

“Good morning,” you giggled, pressing a real kiss to his lips.

“Oh gosh, what smells so good?”

“Your favorite,” you grinned, standing and handing him the tray, then cuddling up to his side.

“Breakfast in bed?” he grinned, then his face fell with panic, “did I forget our anniversary or something?”

“No, silly. I just wanted to do something nice for you,” you laughed.

“Aw, thanks baby,” he grinned, digging in.

You watched him, eating your breakfast but focusing more on Hobi, memorizing everything he did, the way he moved, the sound of his breathing, how he ate. You wanted to remember it all, just in case. He glanced over at you a few times, making silly faces. You giggled and continued to watch him, full of awe and love and wonder.

“Why are you staring at me?” he laughed.

“I love you.” you shrugged.

“Is it because of that dream?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“No! Maybe… yes. But I should be doing this stuff anyway, you’re so amazing and so good to me, you deserve to be treated the same way,” you explained.

“Babe you don’t have to do all this.”

“I know. I want to,” you smiled, gathering the dirty dishes and walking them into the kitchen and washing them.

“Let me help.” Hobi bumped his hip into yours.

“I got it, you go relax baby,” you reached up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“Y/N…” he trailed off, sighing.

“Seriously, I got this. Go relax. You can make it up to me later,�� you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively.

He smirked and smacked your ass before walking into the living room and settling into the couch, turning on the TV. You watched him walk away. I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave. You thought to yourself, admiring his perky butt and broad back. His broad shoulders were bare, he’d slept shirtless and he was wearing basketball shorts slung low on his hips, letting his boxers peek out of the top.

He had no idea how sexy he looked, with his wild sleep-mussed hair, smooth tan skin, and those lips. Oh, his lips. You could write an erotic novel just based on his lips and the things they could do. You smirked to yourself, finishing the dishes and following him into the living room.

You decided you’d have a little fun with him today and snuck away into the bedroom, putting on your best lingerie, and styling your hair the way you knew he liked best. You put on a little bit of subtle makeup, just enough to enhance what was already there so you couldn’t tell it was on if you weren’t looking for it.

You quietly walked back to the living room, sliding in next to Hobi on the couch. He didn’t look in your direction, but he slid an arm around your shoulders. You didn’t blame him - the best part of the crime drama he was watching was on the screen, where they determine who the killer really was. Turns out, it was the jealous mistress. Typical, yet still alluring.

“I KNEW IT!” he grinned, looking over at you for the first time since you’d returned.

His eyes grew wide as he took in your outfit and you bit your lip nervously, looking up at him through your lashes, and leaning forward slightly to show off your cleavage. He visibly gulped, eyes roaming hungrily over your frame.

“You look so fucking sexy in that,” he said, voice thick with desire, eyes turning dark.

“You look sexy in everything, so I guess we’re even,” you fired back.

“You always know exactly what to say.”

You giggled and climbed over onto his lap, straddling him and running your hands slowly down his chest, and his eyes followed your every movement. His body was enticing, he was like a greek god in your opinion. He was a work of art, exquisite, delicious, absolutely mouth watering, and he was all yours. You intended to fully worship his body the way it deserved. You wanted to show him how much he meant to you, how much you cared for him, and how devastatingly sexy he was.

If the damp pool in your underwear didn’t alert him to how he affected your body, the look in your eyes had to. The insatiable thirst you had for him apparent in your gaze. His sturdy chest rose quickly as his breathing became shallow, trying to keep his composure as you started grinding against him, trailing your hands all along his torso. You were teasing him, taunting him, but you both knew the end result would be worth it. The more foreplay, the better the sex. He groaned as your fingers traced lazily over his hardened member, and you smirked to yourself.

You pushed him back onto the arm of the couch, leaving searing kisses along any patch of skin you could reach, your nails gently scratching a trail following your mouth, which you knew he loved. He loved having marks from you, proving he was yours as much as he loved leaving marks on you, and showing the world that you belonged to him. He was agonizingly hard and could barely focus on anything but the way you looked, devouring his body slowly.

You licked lines around each of his abs, and he let his head fall back at the sensation washing over him. It was all he could do not to pick you up and slam you down into the couch, take control and fuck you into next week. But, in true Hoseok fashion, he was respectful and let you follow your plan. You nipped at the skin above his shorts, and he actually whimpered. The great Jung Hoseok actually whimpered, he wanted you so badly. You pulled his shorts and boxers down, and he lifted his hips to help you, like the gentleman he was.

His cock sprung free and slapped against his stomach, swollen, aching, and ready. The tip was leaking pre-cum and you licked your lips seductively before pressing soft kisses to the tip, bold strokes of your tongue following. He groaned, writhing under your touch. Your hand found his balls and played with them while you sunk your mouth over his throbbing erection, a hiss erupting from his delicious lips. You hummed a response, the vibrations doing him in almost as much as the feeling of your warm lips wrapped around his aching cock.

You started bobbing your head up and down, swirling your tongue around the base at the same time, driving him absolutely insane. His moans were music to your ears, encouraging you to keep going. Your hands worked in time with your mouth, occasionally offbeat just to spice it up as you sucked and bobbed and swirled your way around him, bringing him closer to the edge with each passing moment. He groaned loudly, his cock tensing, and you knew it was almost time so you doubled down on your efforts, and soon, he was shooting into your mouth, and you took it all, swallowing and licking your lips before lifting your eyes to meet his gaze.

His face had a sheen of sweat on it, and he looked spent. His breathing was ragged and he just had this shit eating grin on his lips as he stared at you, eyes wide and joyful. You climbed up to lay on his chest, taking a break. But this sex-capade was far from over. He wrapped his arms around you, both of you sticky. You smiled into the soft kiss he pressed to your swollen lips.

“You’re so good at that, babygirl,” he praised you.

“I can’t help myself, you’re just so delectable,” you teased, booping his nose.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t wipe the satisfied smile off his face. You kissed his cheek, his forehead, his nose, his lips. He laughed, loving all the attention from you, but very much wanting to return the favor. He flipped you over, pinning you down on the couch, not that you would have dreamed of trying to break free of his hold. You loved being underneath him, feeling how big and powerful he was. He tortured you the same way you’d tortured him, leaving hot, wet kisses down your neck and collarbone, sucking love marks along the way, nibbling at your sensitive spots. You loved how he kissed your body, how he knew exactly how to please you, where all your favorite spots were.

He treated you like a princess and you loved him for that and a million other reasons, but you couldn’t really focus on those at the moment, not with his lips causing that familiar fire to grow in your core. No man had ever touched you like Hoseok touched you, no man had ever made you feel the way he did. He was a magician, a wizard, a sex-god. His hands traveled along your sides, up to your breasts, and he gave your nipples a gentle squeeze through the thin fabric of your lingerie. You moaned his name, praising him for how good he was to you.

“Fuck, Hobi. You always feel so good,” you encouraged.

“Mmm. You like that, babygirl?” he grinned, looking up at you, a brief halt on the ambush of your body.

“Love it, love you so much,” you told him.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

He pulled your lingerie top off and began kissing along your breast, sucking harshly on the nipple, causing your back to arch off the couch and into his touch. More. His teeth grazed along the already hyper-aware nub, and you bit down on your bottom lip harshly, groaning inwardly. Once he’d decided he’d tortured your breasts enough, he slowly made his way down your stomach, hot breath fanning over your aching, soaked core. You shivered, trying to stay still and not yank his head down. He used his teeth to pull down the panties of your lingerie, and you nearly came from that sight alone. You watched him eagerly as he tore them from your trembling body, tossing them aside carelessly.

His tongue slithered along your folds, teasing you. You whined loudly, showing your displeasure of having to wait, and he chuckled.

“So impatient, baby,” he chastised.

“Only for you.”

He smirked and his tongue dove into your heat, pressing flat against your clit in broad, slow licks. It was almost disrespectful, how slow and tantalizing he was being. Two fingers entered you, curling just right to hit your g spot every time. He took his time, paced himself, slowly bringing you closer to your high. You wiggled on his fingers, trying to get him to speed up, but his tongue and fingers kept their slow assault.

“Patience, my love,” he cooed.

You whimpered in frustration but agreed, and soon, the rumbling deep down in your core was becoming less of a rumble and more of a roar as your release quickly approached. Your walls began to clench, and only then did he speed up, bringing you the most intense euphoric feeling you’d ever experienced in your life. You saw a flash of white light when your eyes screwed shut, you felt like your soul was leaving your body. Maybe that’s why the French called orgasms “the little death”. It crashed over you and you were drowning in ecstasy. When you came back down, Hoseok slowly pulled his fingers out, and leaned up to kiss your lips. You could barely breathe, let alone speak. He laughed at your disheveled state.

“That’s how I felt after you gave me the blowjob of a lifetime,” he winked.

“Remind me to do that more often,” you breathed out, “I kinda like the payback.”

“I do too,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’m so fucking lucky to have you,” you gushed, crushing him in a hug.

“I’m the lucky one, babygirl,” he countered.

You grinned mischievously, biting down on his lip as he kissed you, riling him up again. You both spent the day making dirty memories in every room of the apartment, enjoying each other's company, and spending quality time together. You loved every second of it, and Hoseok did too. By the time the sun went down, you were both completely wrecked, falling asleep as soon as your heads hit the pillows. That night, you only dreamt happy dreams, about life with Hobi and how happy you were that he was yours.