#Blackout Protocol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

say-al0e · 2 years ago

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Sleep Tight

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Jake Seresin knows he’s a good pilot. But what happens when skill and luck run out and you find your husband in the hospital for the first time. | Ft. Anon Request: “Should I stop talking?” “Please don’t. Your voice is… comforting. I’ve missed it.” + “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Warnings: Jake gets in an accident, hospitals, anxiety, questioning mortality, v knows nothing about medicine or Navy protocol, hurt/comfort, Dagger Squad is family; anything else, let me know and I’ll tag it.

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x fem!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k (Look, I see a pretty blonde southern man and I blackout. It is what it is.)

Hospitals had always been a source of - understandable - anxiety.

In your experience, nothing good ever happened in hospitals. It was where you were taken as a teenager, in desperate need of stitches after a schoolyard mishap; where your mother was taken when you were only seventeen, confined to a hospital bed after a particularly nasty car accident; where your brother was taken, face and uniform stained red after a football accident nearly took his eye.

The hallways were always too bright, the harsh scent of disinfectant always too strong, and certain sections rivaled only a library in terms of quiet. Getting the scent out of your nose, out of your clothes and off your skin, seemed next to impossible and the beeping of far off machines rang in your ears long after leaving. But, as life went on, you were fortunate enough to avoid hospitals, for the most part.

There was always a chance that would change upon meeting - and falling in love with - a Navy pilot. Every mission Jake went on, every training exercise he flew was a trip to the hospital in the making but he was too good for that. Human error or natural disaster, technical failure or birdstrike, freak accident or routine incident; Jake Seresin trusted himself and his skills enough for the both of you.

Once, early on in your relationship - not long after you realized it was love that kept you coming back to him, not just an appreciation for his pretty face - Jake grinned at your obvious but unspoken worry as he prepared for a mission. “I’m damn good at what I do, sweets,” he assured you, warm hands cupping your cheeks as he searched your eyes. “The best of the best. Don’t you worry about me.”

While you valued his trust and belief in his own abilities, Jake knew you still worried simply because you loved him. He appreciated it - told you once, in the darkness of your shared bedroom not long after you moved in together - but promised he would continue to do everything in his power to make it home to you. Regardless of how good he was, your worry only ceased when he stepped foot through your front door.

Jake himself worried, you knew that, though he buried it deep beneath a layer of bravado to keep from impacting him flying. Neither of you spoke of it and, really, you wouldn’t have known had you not fallen so ridiculously in love with him. Instead, you simply smiled and shook your head fondly as he paraded around, loud and proud.

The only thing you could do was hope beyond hope that he was right. However, hope only lasts so long.

A phone call from Javy was, usually, a good thing. More often than not, it was at Jake’s expense - tattling on something your husband did or said that would earn him an eye roll and an unimpressed look, poking fun at a mistake Jake made or a faux pas he committed, or, most recently, relaying the reason Hangman continued to draw the ire of other Naval officers.

Other calls were excited, bright declarations that he’d been sent something wonderful from home. You both shared an affinity for the chicory coffee his mother sent from New Orleans and, if asked, you never hesitated to help him whip up a batch of beignets to accompany it.

But you knew the moment the phone rang that it wasn’t a call you ever wanted to receive.

For nearly a week, a nagging, anxious feeling plagued you. Jake attempted to explain it away, reminded you that the holidays had rattled your nerves and you were simply stressed by the amount of work you’d returned to. There was an ever-growing to-do list pinned to the fridge and not enough hours in the day so you agreed, brushed it off and redirected your thoughts any time they veered into dimly lit territory, but it didn’t help much. And though Jake was destined to spend his first real week as a Top Gun instructor in a classroom, you made yourself feel just a little better by urging him to be careful, anyway.

That anxiety proved necessary when, instead of returning your greeting, Javy quietly informed you, “Jake’s in the hospital. I’ll meet you out front.”

As the words registered, the world seemed to fade around you. Whatever else he said - if anything at all - dissolved into a high-pitched ringing, lost to the ether, as “Jake’s in the hospital,” played on a loop.

For a long moment, you stood frozen. It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over your head, chilling you to the bone as every horrible scenario you’d ever imagined and quickly brushed away suddenly became a reality. Dread filled the pit of your stomach as a weight settled on your chest, compressing until you feared your lungs might give, and your hands shook as you reached for you keys.

Try as you might to tell yourself that whatever landed Jake in the hospital likely wasn’t as serious as you were fearing, you knew that wasn’t the case. If it was simple - a few stitches, maybe an x-ray, possibly even another concussion - there was a good chance you wouldn’t have been notified until someone (likely Javy) drove him home.

With those thoughts plaguing you, everything between Javy’s phone call and your arrival at the hospital melded into a blur of trees and afternoon sun.

The hospital itself wasn’t that far from your new home, thankfully, but it was a miracle you made it in tact as the only thing on your mind was Jake. Javy himself likely didn’t know much and likely wasn’t supposed to be the one to call, however, you were grateful he had. Knowing that he was waiting for you, just as concerned about your husband, made the thought of stepping foot into the hospital just a little more tolerable.

True to his word, Javy waited near the entrance when you arrived. Seeing him stood there, worry crystal clear - obvious in the way he blinked just a little too fast, stood with slumped shoulders and furrowed brows as he folded his arms across his chest and tapped usually still fingers against his bicep - and only seeming to worsen as you rushed across the parking lot to meet him made catching your breath that much harder.

Seeing how shaken Javy was - usually so light and strong - made you feel as if you’d just run a marathon. Every step felt like a monumental task, each more difficult than the last, and your heart thumped so loud you worried everyone could hear. Tears pricked at the backs of your eyes, clumped in your throat and threatened to choke you, but you refused to break down when you still weren’t sure what you were walking in to.

“They won’t tell us anything yet,” he explained, forgoing any niceties as he ushered you inside. His voice was rough, quiet and solemn as he steered you down a long hallway, and you could feel the bile creeping up the back of your throat as he spared you a sidelong glance.

No one bothered to question you with Javy at your side. With his jaw set and shoulders squared, determined to keep himself composed (at least in part for your sake), you were thankful for his presence as he guided you through the brightly lit halls. In that moment, you were half-certain you would still be frozen in the middle of your kitchen had he not promised to be waiting, especially as he pushed open the door to the intensive care unit.

The weight pressing on your chest returned full force, heavier than before, as you realized where you were heading. Remaining upright took a concerted effort and, though he kept his distance, you could see Javy tense by your side, just in case.

Before you, a group of pilots - still dressed in flight suits, in various states of dishevelment after a day of work - crowded a doctor who looked more exasperated than anything. They filled the waiting room that was, mercifully, otherwise empty and you were unsurprised to see them. Though he hadn’t been back at Top Gun very long, Jake had finally found himself amongst friends and, like you, they all wanted answers.

Still, the doctor seemed reluctant to give them anything more than a stern look.

“Look,” he began, tone firm but not unkind, “I’m sorry. I understand your frustration but I cannot release any information at this time. Lieutenant Seresin’s commander or family can share information about his condition if they so choose.” It was as if he’d already repeated those exact words a thousand times over - which, based on all Jake had told you about the group, you assumed he had.

Jake could be personable when he chose, friendly and bright, but he’d never been the type to make friends easily in his line of work - especially with those he saw as competition, once upon a time. Since returning to Top Gun, however, the group of pilots had become something of a second family and you were grateful he’d managed to find a sense of belonging. It was clear that they cared about him deeply, despite their rocky start, and that made catching your breath just a little easier.

Though the tension grew more palpable the closer you stepped, there was no hesitation as you rounded the group to approach the doctor. None of them paid you any mind until you cleared your throat. “I’m his wife,” you announced, voice cutting through the aggravated chatter of the pilots as they continued to demand an answer.

In a split second, the group fell silent. Every set of eyes fell to you, all but two widening at your declaration, as Javy nudged a pair of pilots to the side to give you space. Their gazes burned into your skin, warmed your cheeks and would’ve been enough to send you stumbling under any other circumstances, but you paid them no mind.

With a shaking hand, you reached forward and introduced yourself to the doctor. From the corner of your eye, you could see the confusion written across every face as the group shared glances while the doctor scanned the file in his hand. You knew what was running through their minds but the questions could wait as you willed the doctor to speak.

“Mrs. Seresin,” he finally greeted, taking the hand you offered with a terse nod. “If you’ll come with me, I can give you an update on your husband’s condition.”

Javy remained close, gaze trained solely on you as you shook your head and folded your arms over your chest. “I’m just going to repeat everything you tell me,” you informed him, willing your voice not to shake. “Might as well say it here, that way I don’t leave anything out.”

Though it was clear he wasn’t pleased with your answer, the doctor nodded once more and began to explain Jake’s condition.

Most of the terminology went over your head, entered one ear and flew out the other, but you dutifully nodded along as he explained the steps they’d already taken to counteract the injuries he’d sustained. Javy hadn’t elaborated on what happened - and you weren’t sure you wanted to know - but the severity was made clear as you pieced together what little you could understand.

The doctor made it clear that Jake was lucky - he would claim skilled - to have made it and you could feel your knees growing weak as he explained that Jake was still in triage. The sting of your nails pressing into your forearm kept you tethered to the moment and inhaled slowly through your nose to keep your breathing even as he concluded.

“We’re going to keep Lieutenant Seresin sedated for now, until the swelling on his brain begins to go down, and then allow him to wake on his own. When he’s transferred to a room, you’ll be allowed to visit. Until then, you can wait out here,” he offered, gesturing to the empty lobby. “You’ll be notified the moment you can see him.”

With that, the doctor offered one more terse nod before turning to disappear through a door marked ‘staff only.’

For a long moment, the waiting room remained silent. There was a sharp ringing in your ears, drowning out the all too heavy thump of your heart, and you wondered if your breathing sounded as ragged as it felt. In the back of your mind, you were aware of the attention on you - the sets of eyes studying you for answers to a question no one knew existed - but the only set of eyes that you could meet belonged to Javy.

“You okay?”

The answer was no - he knew that, and wasn’t either, judging by the set of his jaw and the glassy sheen to his eyes - but neither of you were willing to admit it aloud. He was a solider, strong and tough, and you refused to play the part of weeping partner when you needed to believe that Jake would be alright. Strength mattered in that moment, composure in the face of tragedy, so you nodded.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, voice quiet but stronger than you hoped it would be. It was clear he didn’t believe you - no one would - but he didn’t question it. Instead, he returned your nod with one of his own and waited as you turned your attention to the group of pilots staring with uncertain frowns.

Javy took the initiative to introduce you, though it did little to answer the question on the tip of every tongue. Neither of you elaborated beyond your name and relationship with Jake and you could see that there were at least a dozen questions each of them wanted to ask. There was a quiet confusion, a bewilderment that would’ve made you laugh under different circumstances, even as they all politely agreed that it was nice to meet you.

If all had gone according to plan, Jake would’ve made the introduction himself and you would’ve smiled at their bewilderment as you stood with a strong arm tossed around your shoulders. There would’ve been an amused declaration that you hadn’t intended to keep your marriage a secret, an explanation that their friendship hadn’t existed when you wed and no one had questioned his relationship status since he returned.

Work had kept you in Lemoore a little longer than Jake, as had dealing with the last of the paperwork necessary to sell your home, and you’d jumped headfirst into a new position that kept you busier than you would’ve liked the moment you arrived in San Diego. You’d planned to visit the Hard Deck, join the fun and meet his friends, there just hadn’t been time.

Regret, bitter and biting, lingered in the back of your throat the moment you considered time. There were so many things you’d intended to do, so many plans you’d made with Jake, that had been delayed by the excuse of never having enough time. You were both focused on your respective careers - Jake, determined to make it to admiral someday; you, eager to follow your dreams - and never stopped to consider what might happen when time eventually ran out altogether.

Though Jake faced death relatively often - more often than the average person, certainly - the thought never really crossed your mind. Losing him was a fear that lingered, buried deep lest it immobilize you each time he set out for a flight, but it never felt like something that could become reality. Jake himself instilled that belief in you, urged you not to worry despite the circumstances he faced daily, and you’d clung tight to it.

Jake was too lucky, too confident, too good to die.

There’d always been all the time in the world, another day just around the corner, and the reality of the situation felt like a slap to the face as it suddenly dawned on you. There might never be another moment, might never be another day. All the plans you’d put off, all the plans you made; suddenly, there was a chance they would never come to fruition.

As the realization sank in, you could feel your knees growing weaker. The edges of your vision began to white and the bile crept higher and higher in your throat. Breathing was a chore, more and more difficult with every second that passed, and you were only vaguely aware of the hand at your elbow tugging you in the direction of uncomfortable wooden chairs.

Time passed slowly the moment you sat, crept by in a muddled mess of ticking clocks and faraway voices. The other pilots remained for a while, all scattered around the room and talking softly amongst themselves, but Javy remained at your side long after they’d gone.

The waiting room itself remained empty, devoid of others sharing your nauseating worry, and you couldn’t decide if you appreciated the quiet or not.

For the most part, Javy remained quiet but steadfast in his observation of you. Every so often, he stood and returned with bottles of water and nearly stale packets of Oreos from the vending machine down the hall that neither of you ate but he figured might come in handy. It was only a matter of time before he was forced to leave, you knew that, but you held tight to the comfort his presence brought as you struggled to keep your thoughts from wandering.

There was no use dwelling on the past. Nothing good would come of regret, of thinking of the time you’d wasted holding off on taking this trip or going on that date, so you forced yourself to think of the future. Jake was lucky, he was good, he would make it and there would be time to atone for the sins of the past.

Still, even the most optimistic thoughts were plagued with the whisper of ‘what-if’ that now lingered all too prominently in the back of every thought.

Eventually, after nearly three hours of anxiety-inducing, nauseating waiting, Jake was settled into a room. When a nurse retrieved you, she informed you that visiting hours would start soon and that Javy wouldn’t be allowed in until they did. You, however, were given a few moments alone with Jake.

Wandering down the hall behind her, close but far enough to keep her from hearing your ragged breathing, nearly sent you into an anxiety attack. Jake would be sedated, that much you knew, but everything else remained a mystery. Would there be bruising? Had he needed stitches? Would you even be able to recognize him?

Each question hurt more than the last and, when the nurse stopped in front of Jake’s room, you could tell she wasn’t surprised by your hesitation. “We’re optimistic,” she shared, voice a mere whisper in the quiet of the hall. “Lieutenant Seresin is a fighter.”

There was no doubt that Jake would do all he could to pull through - she was right, he was a fighter - but her soft encouragement did little to calm the churning of your stomach, even as you nodded. There would be no calm until he woke, a fact she likely knew as well as you did, so you swallowed your fear and stepped into his room.

Seeing your husband, usually so bright and boisterous with a seemingly permanent grin etched across his face, lying lifeless in a hospital bed was devastating. He looked frail, pale and bruised, and the tears you’d been narrowly keeping at bay began to fall as you took in the sight of him.

A gash, held together by stitches, ran from temple to forehead. A bruise, still fresh, was beginning to blossom along his jawline. The beginnings of a black eye were noticeable, as was a busted lip, and a handful of other scrapes and bruises along his neck and arms. The doctor mentioned a cracked rib and the need to monitor for internal bleeding and you lifted a hand to cover your mouth in an effort to muffle your sobs.

For nearly an hour, you sat in the small chair at Jake’s side and allowed yourself to feel the hurricane of emotions raging in your mind. Fear, regret, anxiety, anger, sorrow; each one was more powerful than the last and each one hurt worse. There was no estimate of when Jake would wake - if he woke at all - but you did your best not to dwell.

Jake was strong, he would make it. And maybe if you repeated that enough times, it would be true.

The only thing that kept you from losing yourself completely to worry was the arrival of visitors.

Javy was, of course, the first to arrive.

Though you offered to give him a moment alone, he refused. He insisted you remain in the seat you’d made your own and, instead, offered you the duffle bag he’d retrieved from your home. Anything you could’ve needed - or wanted - was placed neatly inside.

Pajamas - both yours and Jake’s, pieces of his he knew either of you would love - and a small bag of toiletries, the cell phone you’d dropped the moment Javy ended the call and forgot about, a few personal items; the sight of it all made your eyes sting with another wave of tears and Javy accepted the grateful squeeze of your hand with a nod.

For a few moments, the pair of you sat in silence. Like you, Javy seemed unable to look at Jake for too long without getting overwhelmed and you imagined the rest of the squad would likely endure the same difficulty. He was the first - as far as you knew - to experience such a serious accident and, though you wished like hell it hadn’t been him, you hoped no one else would follow.

Somewhere amidst the beeping of the heart monitor, the far-off hum of voices, Javy turned to you. “I promised him if anything happened, I’d be there for you,” he confessed, voice rough with emotion. His eyes, like yours, were swollen and rimmed red. The promise was likely one he’d made when deployed, uttered in the heat of battle, but you could tell he’d taken it seriously as he spared Jake a glance. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

There wasn’t much you could say that could adequately convey your gratitude - both at him treating you like family and him loving Jake like a brother - so you squeezed his hand once more. In that moment, in that circumstance, that was enough.

Later, when Javy needed to return to Top Gun for a debriefing, Fanboy arrived and replaced him in the seat to your left.

Mickey - you’d come to learn his name the moment he sat down, uttered in an outburst of nervous energy that saw Javy shaking his head upon exiting the room - offered you a smile. He seemed to have no idea what to say, at a loss for words as he spared glances at Jake and blinked back a frown of worry, and you imagined silence wasn’t as comfortable for him as it had been for you. There was a chance he didn’t want to offend you, unsure of what was appropriate to discuss with the wife of a friend he hadn’t known existed in the midst of said friend’s hospital room, so you broke the silence for him.

“Where’d Fanboy come from?”

Callsigns always intrigued you - the story behind Jake’s was the first question you asked, though you hadn’t gotten the real story until much later on. The silence didn’t bother you but Mickey seemed grateful for the question, if a little surprised, and shot you a smile that managed to touch his eyes.

“I love nerd shit,” he explained with a quiet laugh. “Star Wars, Star Trek, comic books, superheroes; all of it. I became a pilot because of Han Solo,” he admitted, expression brightening when you smiled at him. “I can get a little… into it when I talk about it, so, fanboy,” he explained, only a little sheepish.

“I love Star Trek. And Star Wars, but Star Trek has my heart.”

The confession was met with wide eyes and parted lips, though there was a hint of delight beneath the winged eyebrows. Mickey spared Jake a glance, blinked hard at the reminder of why you were there, before he returned his attention to you.

“Hangman’s married to a Trekkie? No way.” Mickey paused, as if considering all he knew about Jake - which was, from your understanding, a little less than the rest of the squad - before a look of understanding lit his eyes. “His nerd jokes were always a little too detailed for him not to know anything about Star Trek,” he declared, head tilting as he met your eyes.

For a moment, the room felt nearly normal. It was a conversation you could picture having with him at the Hard Deck, laughing over a few drinks as Jake played a round of pool and rolled his eyes fondly with every secret you spilled, and you willed yourself to keep from glancing at him as you nodded.

“If you tell him I told you this, it’ll be the last thing you do,” you warned, tone clearly teasing as you tilted your head to meet Mickey’s eyes, “but back when we first started seeing each other, when we were just friends with benefits, he made fun of me for being a Trekkie. He thought it was hilarious and so embarrassing that I was a nerd. It was the only thing he ever truly teased me for.”

A brief pause interrupted your story, a moment in which you finally spared Jake a glance and took a steadying breath. The memory of Jake’s teasing was one you loved, especially as it indirectly lead to the true beginning of your relationship, and it helped to distract yourself with stories of the past. The smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth was a little more real, a little easier, as you continued.

“One night, though, he was having a really hard time. Javy got deployed and his dad was really sick. We’d only been seeing each other for a few months and it was still a casual thing so he tried playing it all off. I could tell he wasn’t himself, though. He wasn’t interested in sex but he didn’t want to be alone so I told him we could just hang out. I was watching Star Trek in chronological order, starting with Enterprise, and was only on the first season. He made fun of it at first, called it cheesy and weird, but he got so into it. He asked me a thousand questions, mostly about why the Klingons hated everyone and why the Vulcans were so disliked when they were right about pretty much everything. But every night for two weeks, until he got deployed himself, we watched Star Trek together. And when he got home, he came back to me and we picked up where we left off. It went from him coming over for sex and leaving immediately after to him coming over for dinner and a few episodes of Star Trek. It just kind of became our thing and he’ll deny it until he’s blue in the face to anyone but me but Jake Seresin has a soft spot for Star Trek.”

Mickey’s eyes grew brighter with every word, clearly surprised but pleasantly so. The wonder with which he glanced between you and Jake lifted a fraction of the weight on your chest and brought a small smile to your own lips as you recognized the look in his eyes. It was awe, something a little too hopeful for the setting you found yourselves in, and you were suddenly grateful for Mickey’s bright-eyed enthusiasm.

“The first Halloween we spent as a couple, we were the mirror versions of Trip and T’Pol,” you confessed, grinning when he gaped at you. “Jake only agreed because he could lie and say he was a pilot who’d been in an accident, because of the jumpsuit. I think I was the only one who really knew who he was but it was nice.”

“Do you have pictures and can I see them?”

Though you hadn’t known what to expect, stuck in a hospital room with a friend of your husbands that you’d never met, you were grateful for Mickey’s presence. There were parts of Jake you knew he wouldn’t want shared with his teammates - not yet, anyway - and you kept those tucked close to your heart. Other pieces of your shared life, however, were laid bare with every enthusiastic question Mickey asked.

For nearly an hour, you sifted through photos documenting your relationship with Jake - from the first picture you took, pressed close together in the dim light of a dive bar near a naval base, to photos from your wedding day, to a selfie taken on the beach only a few days prior. Though, somewhere along the way, Mickey’s questions shifted from reminiscing on the past to planning for the future without you even realizing.

When he left, after a great deal of chatter and even a little laughter, the weight on your chest felt lighter. Jake’s condition hadn’t changed miraculously over the course of your conversation but Mickey managed to steer you away from the dark clouds and back into the sunshine. When he left, you felt a little hope, a little peace, and could breathe a little easier as you reached for Jake’s hand.

Before the levity of Mickey’s visit could wear off, a third visitor stepped through the door of Jake’s room.

From the moment Phoenix entered the room, it was clear that she felt out of place. She and Jake weren’t the closest and would likely never be the best of friends. There was no real animosity, not anymore, but their personalities clashed more often than not. He was something of an annoying older brother, a pain in the ass that refused to disappear, and he knew it.

Because of his unapologetic Hangman tendencies, Jake once admitted he wasn’t sure Natasha would ever truly like him, despite how much he’d grown to respect and admire her. However, despite knowing that she was the one person who continually called him on his shit, it seemed that his fears were unfounded.

A soft frown curved her mouth and pinched her brows as she settled into the seat at your left. With every second she spent glancing at Jake, her concern grew clearer. It seemed new, as if it had taken her by surprise, but you’d expected it. Though Jake doubted his place in her heart, you had little doubt that she cared about him as much as he cared about her.

Of all the aviators - aside from Javy - Natasha was the only one you’d met prior to moving to San Diego. It was in passing, in the presence of a friend of a friend of a friend, and long before you married Jake. There’d been small talk, brief chatter that neither of you could remember, but you could see the dim recognition on her face as she finally turned to face you.

“I’ll be honest,” she began, voice soft after a few long moments of silence. “I really don’t know what to say.”

It was apologetic but you understood. If you were in her shoes, you likely wouldn’t know what to say, either.

Their relationship wasn’t built around feelings, had never been fuzzy and warm and truly friendly. Jake was cocky, a little too loud and brash and full of himself, and she reminded him of those facts every chance she got. Their friendship was witty quips and sharp remarks, rolled eyes and huffs of annoyance.

Soft declarations of hope were out of character, as were heartwarming - and, no doubt, embellished - stories of his contributions to the team. That was of no surprise to you, little about your husband surprised you, so you shrugged and offered her a half-smile.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

The declaration wasn’t unkind, simply an acknowledgement that you expected nothing from her, and Natasha seemed to understand. Though her pinched brows remained, frown still darkening her face, she nodded and allowed her gaze to return to Jake.

Though you were thankful for Mickey’s spirit, you found yourself grateful for Natasha’s quiet. The adrenaline that pushed you out of your house and to the hospital had long since worn off. The tears you’d shed left your eyes in a state of discomfort and you could feel a migraine beginning to form. Everything felt heavy, like the weight of the world resting on your shoulders, and holding a conversation felt too much like work in that moment.

It was clear that she worried for Jake, that she’d begun questioning her own mortality, and it hurt to know that Jake was the catalyst for such difficult soul-searching. As you gently traced the back of Jake’s hand, fingers a featherlight touch over his bruised skin, you wondered how long it would take for the squad to return to some semblance of normal, regardless of the outcome of Jake’s accident.

Natasha, however, didn’t leave you long to dwell. Instead, she tipped her head to truly look at you for the first time since stepping into the room.

“Hang- Jake,” she corrected herself, blinking just a little too fast. You knew the look well, had worn it a handful of times yourself, and smiled softly as she spared him a fleeting glance. “Jake is the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.” When you laughed, head tilting in quiet agreement, Natasha’s frown lifted into the smallest of smiles. “He’ll be okay,” she assured you.

There was a finality to her statement that told you she clearly believed it. Though their relationship seemed to be the roughest around the edges, Natasha’s certainty calmed your heart. If she believed he would be alright, if Mickey believed he would be alright, if Javy believed he would be alright, you were going to have to believe it, too.

“Yeah.” There was little you could say in response - even less that wouldn’t leave you in tears - so you nodded and traced the faint tan line at Jake’s ring finger. “Thanks for coming. I know he’d appreciate it.”

Natasha left shortly after, eyes a little glassier than you’d expected and shoulders slumped in a way that made your chest ache. However, you weren’t given time to dwell on the effect Jake’s accident might have on the squad - on Natasha and on their relationship moving forward - as another visitor stepped through the door.

Unlike the others, Bob lingered near the foot of Jake’s bed. He stood with his hands tucked into his pockets, taking in the sight of Jake with a deep frown darkening his face. Of the visitors, Bob seemed to be the most upset, and you found yourself surprised as he pulled in a shuddering breath.

“Can I ask a question?”

Bob’s voice was soft, timid, and though he had yet to spare you a glance, you smiled as you twined your fingers with Jake’s. “Sure,” you permitted, though you were quick to add, “but I’m not promising an answer.”

The frown he wore deepened into something nearing hurt, an anguish you weren’t expecting from someone who never seemed particularly close with your husband - someone who, like Natasha, Jake feared may never really like him - as he finally lifted his gaze to you.

“How come we didn’t know Hangman was married? I was stationed at Lemoore, too, and I never knew.”

That was the question you’d been waiting for, unasked but lingering on the tip of every tongue. You were surprised no one else had asked - Mickey, in particular - but it seemed as if the answer truly mattered to Bob. There was genuine hurt in his eyes and you felt your heart clench at the furrow of his brows.

There were no memories of him from Lemoore - he wasn’t someone you remembered seeing out at a bar, not someone you remembered having over for dinner - but he clearly remembered Jake.

“It wasn’t intentional,” you consoled him, voice just as soft as his had been as he slowly stepped closer. “Jake’s never really been one to make friends. Javy knew because he and Jake have been through a lot together but you guys are the first real friends he’s made since Javy. He was planning on bringing me to the Hard Deck to meet you all but I’ve been so busy with my new job and unpacking the house that the time was just never right.” A huff of laughter, devoid of any humor, escaped as you cast a sideways glance at Jake’s face. “That sounds really stupid now but it all felt so important at the time, you know?”

Bob made a noise of understanding, one that confirmed he understood the pang of regret you felt each time you truly looked at Jake, as he finally took the seat to your left. “Hindsight,” he mumbled, corner of his mouth kicking up in a rueful smile as he folded his hands across his lap. “We met a few times, me and Hangman,” he admitted, gaze dropping to his lap. “He didn’t remember me but most people don’t. He was nice to my grandma when she came to visit. Helped her find me when she got lost.”

“He can be nice when he wants to be.” Bob hummed, a noncommittal sound that acknowledged he’d heard you, and allowed himself a glance at the way you continued to caress Jake’s hand. “Grandparents love him,” you continued, though you weren’t quite sure why. “I’m my grandmother’s favorite but he’s a close second, even though she’s got six other real grandchildren.”

A small smile lifted the corner of Bob’s mouth. “How long have you been married?”

“A little over a year. We got married a few months before he was called back to Top Gun,” you informed him, smiling as you squeezed Jake’s hand.

The wedding itself was a small affair - a handful of friends and family - on his family ranch and brought a smile to your face each time you thought of it. Before Jake, you hadn’t given marriage much thought, hadn’t really considered what your wedding might look like, but looking back, there was nothing you would change.

“It rained, near the end of the reception. I panicked for a second ‘cause it felt like bad luck, you know? But Jake just smiled and pulled me out to dance in the rain.” There was a moment of pause, a moment in which you took in the deceptively peaceful look on his face, before you turned your gaze to Bob. “I know Jake can be… a lot. But there’s good there, too. Just takes him a while to let other people see it.”

Jake was an acquired taste, that much you knew to be fact, but Bob’s understanding nod confirmed something else you knew to be true; his return to Top Gun had flipped a sort of switch. Details were fuzzy, as they always seemed to be, but Jake had grown more comfortable in the last year.

A small part of you wondered if it was love, being given affection he’d doubted himself worthy of for so long, but another part of you wondered if it was acceptance. He’d finally come to accept that not only was he worthy of romantic love, he was worthy of familial, platonic love, too. The people he’d seen as competition for so long, the people he’d pushed himself to be better, stronger, louder than weren’t out to get him. They were there to work with him, to be part of the same team, and you were glad that others had seen the change, too.

While Bob wasn’t as quiet as Natasha or as chatty as Mickey, he still managed to make you laugh with the odd deadpan remark. He asked a handful of questions about your relationship, mostly wondering how you managed to live with Jake, and answered questions you would’ve asked had you met in any other setting.

It was nice, another pleasant conversation in the midst of a dark moment, but you were grateful for the silence that followed once he left. For the first time in hours, you were left alone for longer than a few moments. There was a slight worry it would be overwhelming, give you too much time to think about the dozens of potential outcomes that awaited you, but you felt a sort of peace you hadn’t expected.

Regardless of the outcome, knowing that Jake had managed to find a family that loved him, despite his past misgivings, granted you serenity. Knowing that that same family had taken the time to embrace you, despite learning of your existence only a handful of hours before, was enough to ease the weight on your chest and make catching your breath less of a monumental task.

Jake was loved, well and truly, and you were grateful for it.

Though you imagined the night was over, the visitors would stop funneling in, a final member of the team appeared with thirty minutes to spare. Rooster stepped into the room with a brown paper bag that smelled of Chinese takeout and a coffee that looked suspiciously like your go-to order.

When his offer was met with a frown of confusion, Bradley smiled. “Coyote,” he explained, not giving you the chance to ask. “You should eat."

Hunger was the last thing on your mind. The thought of eating turned your stomach but you knew he was right. So, instead of arguing, you took the coffee with a smile. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

Bradley sat in the chair to your left and began rifling through the bag. He produced a few of your favorites - an order Javy no doubt relayed - before pulling out a carton of his own food. When you realized he was waiting for you to begin before he would, you laughed quietly.

As the pair of you ate, both slow and methodical, Bradley spared you glances every so often. Like Javy, the silence you shared was comfortable. Despite not knowing one another, there was no overwhelming, awkward need to fill the quiet with mindless chatter. Still, Bradley managed to break the silence before you could.

“I never told him,” he began, voice a quiet rasp in the still of Jake’s room, “but I figured he was seeing someone. He’s got a photo of you in the cockpit of his jet.”

That was of little surprise to you. Jake had taken a handful of polaroids throughout your relationship, each with the excuse of being able to carry you with him wherever he went, and you smiled. “Is it still the one from the beach?”

Bradley returned your smile easily as he shook his head. “No, it looks like you’re in the snow. I tried not to stare too much. Figured he would’ve said something if he wanted us all to know.”

“That was right before we got engaged. He knew I’d never seen snow so he took me to see it.” Bradley paused, placed his chopsticks onto the small tray and turned to face you as you swirled the straw of your coffee. “Is he still an asshole? Absolutely. Do I want to smack him for being an asshole? Regularly.” Bradley laughed, smile as real as you imagined it could be, and tipped his head in acknowledgement as his eyes shifted to where you squeezed Jake’s hand. “I know that it’s hard sometimes, seeing Jake beneath Hangman, but I’m glad you’re all getting a glimpse.”

“When we first got called back,” Bradley began, “I told him that he hadn’t changed. But that was a lie. We can all see that he’s changed. He’s still an asshole, but he’s more tolerable now.”

“I can’t lie and say that I’ve never seen that side of him because I have. I’ve seen Hangman. But I see Jake more often. I see the man who dances with me in the kitchen to old country music after we do the dishes. I see the man who asked me to marry him in the snow, even though he hated every second of the cold.” Bradley frowned, if only slightly, as he watched you blink back the tears that stung the backs of eyes. “Jake loves you guys. He spent so long trying to be the best, seeing you guys as competition. I’m just glad he’s learning how to be part of a team.”

Bradley hesitated for a moment, seeming to question whether he should speak, before he spared Jake a glance. “He saved my life,” he admitted quietly, eyes on Jake as he shook his head slightly. “Out of everyone, he was the last person I expected to come back for me. But he did.”

The shift in their relationship had been the most obvious to you. Jake had gone from lamenting being passed over in favor of Bradley Bradshaw to laughing at his antics in the span of a few weeks, and you wondered what happened. To know that your husband, who felt overshadowed by Bradley for years, had gone out of his way to save him brought you comfort rather than instilling fear.

“He doesn’t talk a lot about deployment,” you confessed, shrugging slightly when he turned his attention back to you, “so I appreciate you telling me that. I’ve spent the last few years kind of terrified, just waiting for a call like this, but now that it’s here, I don’t really know what to do.”

“There’s not much you can do other than be here.” When you frowned, gaze falling to the cup in your hands, Bradley sighed. “I can’t tell you it’ll be okay because I don’t know that. But I can tell you that he’s good at what he does and he’s stubborn. Knowing he has you here, waiting for him, he’s going to fight like hell to stay with you.”

Bradley sounded just as confident as Natasha had, convinced that Jake would be fine, and you were grateful for his assurance. It filled your chest with a little hope, though you were careful not to allow it to inflate too much as hope was the thing that killed.

Instead, you attempted to keep some semblance of the peace the Squad’s visits brought, even as Bradley bid you goodnight. You knew that there was no chance of sleep finding you, even as tired as you found yourself, so you shuffled through the bag Javy bought and smiled when you came across the book he’d plucked from your nightstand.

It was a book you’d taken to reading when you couldn’t sleep, one you’d already read at least a dozen times, but it helped remove you from reality as you flipped it open and settled deeper into your seat. The nagging anxiety, the worry that Jake may not awake, lingered prominently in the pit of your stomach - made the tips of your fingers tingle and the intake of a deep breath seem next to impossible - but you attempted to swallow it as you removed the bookmark and began to read aloud.

Jake was never overly fond of the books you read - he preferred nonfiction, biographies or deep dives into historic events - but you’d found a happy medium in the form of modern classics. The Illustrated Man was one he’d gotten into and it helped that the book was comprised of short stories, split into pieces for those nights he was home and sleep seemed to evade you both.

While the hospital continued to move around you, while the machines Jake remained tethered to beeped and blinked, you began to read aloud. A story of explorers, searching for a force greater than themselves, followed by the tale of men driven to madness by eternal rain filled the relative quiet of the hospital room before you paused at the title page of The Rocket Man.

The story of a man who left his family for months at a time, off in a spaceship exploring the galaxy, was not one you gave much thought before falling in love with Jake. But the story of a young boy who desperately missed his father and a wife who once loved her husband greatly having resigned herself to knowing that one day her husband would walk out their door for the final time weighed a little too heavy on your chest these days.

There was no future in which you could see yourself growing numb, resigned to a fate you desperately wished to avoid, and you hoped beyond hope that Jake would continue returning to you. The pair of you hadn’t discussed a family, a future beyond loving one another, but you knew that Jake Seresin was it for you and that you were it for him.

So, instead of allowing yourself to fall deeper into the anxiety you’ve barely kept at bay, you flipped through the pages in search of a different story.

As you thumbed through the book, however, a quiet sigh drew your attention. The book was quickly abandoned as you lifted your head to glance at Jake. Those green eyes, a sight you marveled at even on the best of days, met yours and you nearly pinched yourself as you blinked back the tears stinging at the backs of your eyes.

In that moment, every emotion possible filled you. Breathing simultaneously grew easier and more difficult as the weight on your chest shifted. The tingling in the tips of your fingers eased, if only slightly, as you struggled to latch onto one particular train of thought.

Before you could speak - and say what, you weren’t sure - Jake beat you to it. “Why’d you stop reading?”

The question was so mundane, spoken as if he’d simply woken from a nap to find you pausing din the midst of a story, but the gravel of his voice and the injuries marring his face reminded you of exactly what happened. The story was one you made it a habit to skip, especially with Jake around, so you simply shrugged.

“I… the next one isn’t my favorite,” you nearly whispered, gaze never leaving his face as you dropped the book into the chair and reached for his hand. “I’ll keep reading after someone comes and looks you over, alright?”

Jake hummed, a noncommittal sound, as he tilted his head to offer you a lazy smile. “Good. Missed your voice, sweetheart.”

Though he didn’t mean for it to, Jake’s comment broke the dam that had kept the tears at bay since the aviators left you alone. Relief, so bright and warm, filled your veins even as Jake squeezed your hand and frowned at the sight of your tears. But before he could speak, you shook your head.

“I’m going to go grab a nurse. I’ll be right back,” you promised, squeezing his hand in return before untangling your fingers and rushing out of the room on jelly legs.

As the nurse, followed by a doctor, stepped into Jake’s room, you remained in the hall. With your back pressed to the wall, you scrubbed at your eyes to stop the tears from falling. You made it a point to keep your composure, especially in front of Jake as it related to his work, and did your best to settle yourself. However, the weight of the day, combined with the lack of sleep, made it difficult to pull yourself together.

Jake was lucky, you didn’t need a doctor to tell you that - though he made sure to point it out the moment he stepped back into the hall - and you knew that the day could’ve ended in tragedy. This was the closest you’d come to losing Jake and you had no desire to ever relive this day.

But this was his life, the path he’d chosen and a path you knew he would continue down the moment he was cleared to fly once more, so you swallowed your fear and thanked the doctor for letting you know that they’d be keeping Jake for a little while longer, just to observe.

After a few moments, when the nurse finally left the room, you stepped in and returned to your seat at Jake’s side.

For the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure what to say to Jake. The silence felt awkward, painful in a way it had never really been, as you took a moment to study the injuries Jake had sustained.

“Doc assured me there are ways to get rid of scars. Just gonna have to deal with me lookin’ like Two Face for a while.” The joke was weak, unable to hide the anxiety he clearly felt, and you frowned as you lifted a hand to gently brush the uninjured cheek. When you found yourself unable to speak, voice stuck in your throat even as you so desperately wanted to say something, Jake sighed. “Want me to stop talking?”

“Never.” The reply was quick, stronger than you intended, but it made Jake laugh quietly - and then wince - as your hand returned to his. “Please don’t. Your voice is comforting. I’ve missed it.”

Jake sighed once more, a quiet sound as he attempted to shift in bed, and turned his head to a more comfortable position. “I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetheart.”

The apology was soft, a whisper in the still of the room, and you shook your head to keep him from speaking further. “You’re awake,” you dismissed, “apology accepted.”

Sensing your desire to change the subject - you weren’t ready to talk about the accident and you were assuming he wasn’t either - Jake hummed. “Anything exciting happen while I was out?”

“I met some of the Dagger Squad.” Jake smiled - the barely there lifting of his lips - as you idly brushed your fingers over the back of his hand. “Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Rooster; they all dropped by. Javy said the others planned to come tomorrow but hopefully they can all visit at home, instead.”

“Anybody get a picture when they figured out who you were?”

“No, but they all looked a little like fish out of water.” Jake laughed quietly at that - a sound that seemed to pain him as the hand you weren’t holding lifted to his ribs. “I spilled some of your deepest, darkest secrets while you were out.”

“Mm, only fair,” he decided, hand turning to hold yours still as he waited for you to meet his eyes once more. “Know you don’t wanna talk about it right now but I’m glad you’re here, darlin’. You were the last thing I -“ Jake cut himself off, quickly realizing that line of thought was not one you needed to hear in that moment, so he corrected himself. “You’re always on my mind. Just wanted to make sure you know that.”

Jake made sure you knew that - often made it a point to remind you that he was thinking of you, whether it came in the form of flowers or a quick text - so you nodded. “I know.”

“Good.” Jake took a moment to really take you in, then, eyes roving your face for the first time, before he sighed and squeezed your hand. “You should go home, get some rest. I’ll still be here in the morning.” When you raised a brow, clearly unimpressed with his idea, he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You leave when I leave. Fine, at least try to get some sleep. I’m the one in the hospital bed but you look like hell, sweetheart.”

“If you didn’t have a head injury, I’d be really offended,” you huffed, though the joke came out a little weaker than you intended.

“How long you think the squad’ll let me get away with shit before they start calling me out again?”

The laughter was still light, brittle, and accompanied by a wince but Jake seemed to truly be in better spirits than you expected. You knew that it was for your benefit - the real damage would be uncovered later, when you were both in a headspace to discuss what happened, how he really felt - but you still laughed as you shook your head.

“Not even for a second. You’re lucky, babe, but not that lucky.”

Jake smiled, happy that his joke worked at least for the moment, and gestured to the small couch in the corner. “Still gonna push my luck, sweetheart. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up, promise.”

Though you had no desire to lose another moment with Jake, the need for sleep was overwhelming. You could feel the adrenaline of the day wearing off, the worry and anxiety calming just enough to leave you exhausted, so you sighed and slumped in your seat. “Fine, but only because you’re cute.”

Everything that awaited you both remained to be seen. The conversations you needed to have, what the future would hold, could wait. You were granted tomorrow with Jake, the only thing you could’ve asked for, and figured that would be enough for now. And with his hand clasped firmly in yours, you allowed yourself to rest with the knowledge that when you woke, he’d be there.

______________________________________

Author’s Note: If the tags don’t work, I will scream.

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000, @xlynnx07, @julesclues, @archetypesoflife, @oliviah-25, @benhardysdrumstick, @caatheeriinee07, @prettymucheveryothernamewastaken, @yvespoems, @chloereidwayne, @flower-name, @ccristata, @feltonswifesworld87, @mxdi0, @angellwingggs, @s00buwu, @mjsvinyl, @woodlandmouth, @hngmnslver, @wifey-halstead, @pr3ttyr0s3xs, @winchester126, @peoniarose

#hangman x reader #hangman imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #top gun one shot #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick x reader #v’s fics

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chimkin-samich · 1 year ago

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Ohoho the claws and the fangs, do they poke out whenever Sun is stressed/nervous/agitated? Also dang the red eyes are almost as scary as full blackout

Yup!

Whenever Sun is essentially struggling to control himself, (rage, anxiety, desperation *wink wink lol*) his claws and fangs pop out

His claws pretty much come out pretty easily but when his fangs show up he’s pretty much about to break and really struggling to hold on to his sanity

The red pupils is either evidence of his frustration or moon wanting to pop out as well, if it’s from frustration it’s a little hint of the remnants of the virus still in their system, it may not be active but pieces of it still affect them due to old protocols still being there and the virus pieces holding on to them

But other than that the virus is gone and doesn’t really have much influence over them

#mods speaketh #mod sly

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rosewind2007 · 3 months ago

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Interesting point raised during a conversation with @imitationgame77 !

RESTROOMS & BATHROOMS

(in The Murderbot Diaries)

In first, second and third books in The Murderbot Diaries, sometimes Murderbot refers to the “restroom”. It does this twice (n=2) in Artificial Condition; three times (n=3) in Rogue Protocol; and in Exit Strategy it mentions restrooms five times (n=5) —the word “bathroom” is never used

(see below, right at the bottom, for quotes and context)

Then, in Exit strategy we have the surprise mention of the “bathroom”, on page 60 of my e-copy (so slap bang in the middle, and also in the middle of the five restrooms (pages 9, 22, 22, 103, 120))

Up in the room, Pin-Lee was pacing slowly and trying not to grind her teeth and Ratthi had gone to the bathroom three times.

The person using the “bathroom” is Ratthi—and this language usage struck me at the time as I am British and “restroom” strikes me as far more American English, whilst “bathroom” is less so (I would note that British people tend to use other words like the (possibly less euphemistic) “toilet”: a word which Murderbot only uses once in Network Effect and goes “ugh” afterwards)—checking in the Oxford English Dictionary seems to confirm that restroom is typically American English

I was reminded that in All Systems Red, Ratthi uses the word “arseholes” rather than “assholes” (assholes being the spelling found throughout the rest of the books)—note that Ratthi doesn’t say the word “bathroom” in Exit Strategy, but the word is used about him (being Watsonian about it, perhaps Murderbot heard Ratthi say “I’m going to the bathroom—again…”?)

But, hey—could just be a one-off?

In Fugitive Telemetry there is one mention of the restroom (n=1), and zero bathrooms (see below)

But then in Network Effect there are eight restrooms (n=8) and five bathrooms (n=5)

The first six mentions are of restrooms, on the pages listed below (pages as in my e-copy of Network Effect)

78 restroom

85 restroom

86 restroom

88 restroom

145 restroom

👆six uses of “restroom” all but one of these are Murderbot’s narrative (the other is the first one of the two on page 85, spoken by Ras)

The last one of those (p.145) is when Murderbot has a “rage blackout” and locks itself in the restroom…again Murderbot narrative voice:

Then who should come to join it in the restroom to try and talk it out, but…Ratthi!

Initially he talks to it, using the word “restroom” (page 149, bringing the number of restrooms to seven)

BUT when he knows he’s successfully talked it down (out):

And Ratthi calls it, not a restroom but…a bathroom! This is on page 150.

After this there are another three bathrooms on pages

152 bathroom

154 bathroom

166 bathroom

Of these, the first is spoken by Arada (page 152) then the other two are Murderbot’s narrative voice.

Then we go back to a reference to the eighth mention of a restroom on page 173 (which is Murderbot lying grumpily to Thiago, telling him Amena is in the restroom) and then finally there’s a last bathroom—which is in a HelpMe.file…bringing the total to bathroom (n=5) and restroom (n=8)

Which, given the arsehole in All Systems Red—

This makes me think that Martha Wells imagines Ratthi (and possibly others) pronouncing or using certain words in a weirdly “British” way which may influence Murderbot, and perhaps others, around him

Rather disappointingly, for the purposes of this blog, System Collapse has just three (n=3) “restrooms” and no bathrooms (or toilets) mentioned (all are in Murderbot’s narrative voice)

How this happens in a space future with Earth itself never being mentioned is beyond the scope of this little blog—perhaps it’s like the Ninth Doctor said:

“Lots of planets have a North”

See below for context for the novellas:

Artificial Condition n=2

(Tapan had told them she was sick and was going to the shuttle’s restroom compartment. They hadn’t realized what had happened until the shuttle had cleared the port.)

I thought Tapan was getting up to go to the restroom facility, but then she settled on the pads behind me, not quite touching my back.

Rogue Protocol n=3

So I listened to them a lot and pretended to be launching major investigations into incidents like who left a cracker wrapper in the galley restroom sink.

There were no private cabins, just a couple of bunks built against the bulkheads up on the control deck next to the pilot suite, and two more in cubbies behind the cargo station, next to the emergency MedSystem and a tiny restroom cubby.

And one camera was in the central hub for the port traffic control and the other in a jury-rigged hub that was now acting as station control—the two places where if something went wrong, you needed to know right away; in other words, not the mess, restrooms, or private quarters.

Exit Strategy n=5

I’d removed the blood and fluid from my clothes back on Ship, in the cleaning unit in its passenger restroom, but there hadn’t been anything on board to fix the projectile and shrapnel holes.

I’d paid for a private cabin with an attached restroom facility and automated meal delivery.

It had a bunk with a bedding packet and a small display surface, a door leading to the tiny restroom facility, a storage cabinet for personal possessions, and a meal distribution receptacle.

It was a small ship-to-ship shuttle, with only one compartment with seating along the bulkheads, and a cubby for emergency supply storage and a restroom.

It took me a minute—and I mean a full minute, my access speed was terrible—to recognize the symbol on the closed door as an archaic sign for a restroom.

Fugitive Telemetry n=1

Hopefully Aylen was in a restroom and not dead somewhere in a corridor.

NB/PS I also checked for washroom, and there didn’t seem to be any in any of the books

The short story Home (from Mensah’s POV) has one restroom, and no bathrooms or toilets mentioned

The short story Compulsory has no restrooms, bathrooms or toilets mentioned

#murderbot #the murderbot diaries #murderbot diaries #secunit #martha wells #meta #bathroom #restroom #toilet #word usage #tmbd #TMBD meta

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hastalavistabyebye · 6 months ago

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Fox was hunched down on his desk, looking at the datapad in his hand. He had stopped reading a long time ago without noticing. There was too much noise in his head.

He had to complete too much datawork. Make security plans for five different senators’ departures, for the same day. Give a final look at the patrol rotations for the next tenday. Sign the supplies demands he had received a few days ago, from both the 4th and 7th Sky armies, in addition to the Guard ones. Write the reports the Chancellor had asked him. How many already ? Six, two for the prison, one regarding the changes in the Rotunda’s security protocol, three for the missions achieved by Stone’s squad, the ARFs descent in the lower levels and the hunt he was charged to take care of, a few rotations ago.

He should check on his troops,down in the medbay. And make sure B Squad had checked in like they were supposed to. He didn't want them to go in comms blackout like the last time. How was he supposed to have their back if he didn't know what happened and where they had to hide ? Tell Bral -or whoever they had chosen to replace them at the front desk- to look out for the next patrol coming back at HQ. Things were getting heated with the Pykes and Black Sun lately. The next few rotations were going to be hard, with three battalions coming back at Triple Zero at the same time.

He should eat something. And make himself a new cup of caff. He really should go down in medical. He’d also have to prepare himself for his next shift in the Senate. Had he updated the Lists yesterday as he was supposed to ? Yes, Thire had given him a few names to write in the No Shiny list, and delivered him some sweets he had steal in one of those big bowls the Senators loved to put in their waiting rooms. Then had told him the last gossip and some blackmail to put in his files. He should check on his Shinies. Some had come from other battalions, he had to make sure they were not taking things too brutally. And assure they had a good support system.

Haran, he hoped B Squad’s mission would be successful. Getting that intel on this karking slave ring would make a priceless difference. He'll have to talk to Mick about training a new trooper. They couldn't stay three during field missions, they needed someone else. And he might be at the head of the squad, but he could barely leave the planet anymore. Kriff, that was going to be hard. Thunder’s loss was still heavy on them all.

The patrol shift was going to happen in ten minutes. Was there a vote today ? Yes, but a small one. He’d go to the kennels at the end of the day, see how the new litter was doing so far. But first he should do that datawork. And go refill his mug. He really hoped the Chancellor wouldn't call him tomorrow. He was supposed to lead an exploration mission in the lower lower levels, the day after that. How long has it been since he saw his batchers ? Any of them ? Well, not counting Thorn and Stone. He should ask one of the two to cut his hair soon. They were getting annoying. And most likely looked like a messy, terrible nest made by a drunk aiwa. He should shave too. And move a bit, Nightmare told him to move regularly, stretch, walk a few steps, when he was doing datawork.

But he had so many forms to fill. And he’ll have to move soon anyway to go check his men. He hoped no one had been trapped by angry civilians again. He thought that attacking troopers for being there, when they had no real other choices at that, was a waste of civil rights. If he had rights Fox would just take his troops for some vacations. The beach was a natborn classic, right ? If he couldn't leave Coruscant still, he would take them for some hunt and explore in the lowest levels, though. It’d give for amazing parkour routes too.

He was so tired. Everything felt muchy and like a Kamino storm. The one where the rain slapped you until your skin felt raw and the wind was so strong it could just take you with it, but more often preferred to kick you down and pinned you under the rain. Where the thunder was so loud you could feel it in your teeth.

Was the last patrol back yet ? Fox sometimes loathed his siblings for being able to choose their own paint colors. But then he just loathed himself for it. He should really check on Bal and make sure they were safely back home. And make sure B Squad did check-in with Ghost. He'll do that once he had signed those requisition forms. What time was it ?

Fox was hunched down on his desk, chin in one hand, datapad in the other. He was looking at the screen but had stopped reading a long time ago.

#i've written too much fluff and not enough fox those last few days #so here have some fox angst 😄#ficlet #writing #sw #tcw #commander fox #hi tumblr void #i haven't seen any fox with executive dysfunction so i'm fixing that #angst #coruscant guard

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anne8510 · 1 year ago

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The Perfect Balance

Tony and Peter have been together for about 6 months now and Peter has moved into the penthouse. They sleep better when they are next to each other, less nightmares and night terrors and more actually rest. They have kept it a secret for a while only telling May, Happy and Ned. Three months into their relationship Tony took Peter to the security office with Happy had him meet all of the security staff so there would never be any issues with Peter having full access to everything in the tower and all of Tony's properties world wide. Peter now has a badge that is Alpha2 and the only one that is equal to Tony's. Friday allows Peter access to everything by biometrics even if he doesn't have a badge and this includes Tony's lab. This is huge for Tony, no one has ever had unlimited access to his lab but he trusts Peter with his life and he likes having him by his side as often as possible.

Today is Friday and Tony is in the lab working on making the Spider-Man suit a stealth suit and he has out the lab into blackout mode knowing it won't affect his boyfriend's access but will keep other interruptions away.

As Peter walks through the front doors of the Tower, he waves at the security officers at the desk and heads to the the private elevator. Once he is inside Friday welcomes him home and tells him there are visitors outside the lab waiting to talk to Boss but can't because of the blackout protocol. Peter hums to himself and tells Friday thanks for the heads up. He then asks about how Tony has been through out the day and Friday reports that after finishing meetings in the morning he has been in the lab for 4 hours but has managed to eat all the snacks Peter left for him before he left for classes which makes Peter smile. They have been working on Tony taking better care of himself and to hear he remembered to eat while he was working is a big step.

When Peter gets off the elevators he steels himself to see who is waiting in the hall and takes a few deep breaths when he sees Pepper and Rhodey. Rhodey is on his phone looking fairly relaxed and Pepper is the exact opposite looking pissed and tapping her nails on the keypad on the lab door. Rhodey is first to see Peter and gets up to greet him "Hey Pete how's it going?" "Hi Rhodey. I'm good how about you? What brings you down to the science level? " asks Peter with a smirk." "Just thought I could use a catch up since I finally got the higher ups off my back for our latest political moves." Peter smiled "Tony will be happy to see you and I can give your leg braces a look over while you're here if you want." Rhodey laughed and nodded to the offer. Peter had visited him several times while he was recovering from his injury and helped Tony make his braces. Rhodey knew that after the shit show in both Germany and Siberia Peter had been the one who continued to show up for Tony and Peter was the one Tony found the most comfort in now.

Pepper took this moment to clear her throat and address them both "As much as this reunion is great, it's probably not a good intern day, kid. Tony isn't letting any of us into the lab and the access codes have all been changed since I was last here. Friday isn't really acknowledging me either so probably best if you go home today." Peter took a sharp breath in and moved towards the lab door, "oh I am not here as an intern anymore, I live here and Tony has placed the lab on a blackout protocol which locks out everyone except me. You missed a lot in the last few months Miss. Potts." Peter put his hand on the keypad and the lab doors automatically open, Peter turned to look at the two visitors, "Follow me if you would like to talk to Tony but please keep your voices down until he knows we are here. He doesn't need to have a panic attack thinking there is an attack on the Tower."

As Peter walked into the lab he saw Tony working on the spidey suit at his desk, head down and in the zone. Peter waves his hand and Friday lowered the rock music to a much lower level. This sparked Tony's attention and he looked up to see Peter and smiled widely. "Hi sweetheart. Is it 4 already?" Peter nodded and walked over to give Tony a kiss on the cheek. "Yup 4 on the dot and I brought the best sandwiches in Queens for your next snack." Tony laughed "Thanks love. I am a little hungry now that you mention it but I did finish all the fruit you left me. Thank you for bringing it down here before you left this morning." Peter looked softly at Tony, "Of course. You have some visitors who I let in with me."

Tony looked up to see the two standing near the door while Peter was getting the food ready and starting up his own work. Tony grinned widely when he saw Rhodey, "Honeybear it has been too long. I hope you have some real leave from those government dictators and can stay a few days." Rhodey nodded, "Got a week or two to hang around and annoy you... and Pete is seems." Tony looked over at Peter as the younger man handed him his sandwich and a bottle of water. "Yes Peter will definitely be here too." "Thank you Pete."

Tony took a bite of his sandwich and turned to Pepper, "and I can only assume you have some important paperwork that needs signing to get you all the way down here Miss Potts." Pepper finally unfroze and continued to walk further into the lab. Frustrated she slammed her paperwork down on the table and almost growled "What is going on here Tony? My access codes don't work, Friday is ignoring me and you just called your intern sweetheart!?"

Peter was now up and moving to sit in on the stool next to Tony with his own sandwich in hand. He boldly glared at Pepper and put his hand on Tony's arm to ground him and reassure him he was still by his side. Tony sighed heavily, put his hand over Peter's and gave it a squeeze to say thank you and then looked at Pepper. She had been on the west coast for almost a year and she made no contact with him unless it was business related. Tony spoke firmly "Your access codes work for the parts of the building you are allowed to be in, which is no longer this lab or the penthouse. Those are my personal spaces and now Peter's as well. Peter and I are in a romantic relationship and have been for months now. He has officially moved in and has Alpha2 clearance, the exact same as me, not only here but in all my properties and businesses."

Pepper was furious and could barely get her words out, "What are you doing Tony!? Have a fling. Fine. But you can't give any old kid that kind of access or trust. This is ridiculous you are blinded by a good lay, just great and I am going to pay the price."

Tony steeled himself and spoke with a furious tone that sent a shiver down Pepper's back, "Don't you ever speak that way about Peter again. He is by far the best possible thing I have found in my entire life and I am beyond lucky he sees me as worthy to stand by his side. I trust him with my business, with my secrets and with my life, it is much more than I have ever trusted anyone. You fucked off to the west coast because I was too much to deal with, too many problems but I am not a problem to Peter. And Peter was here when no one else was when I was at my lowest and he brought me back. You and I are not even friends anymore, you are the CEO of this company and that is as far as our communication will go."

Pepper glared at Peter who had finished his sandwich and was now causally rubbing circles on Tony's hand trying to ward off any increasing panic. "Fine whatever when this blows up don't come to me to fix any of it." She tries to hand Tony the paperwork but he doesn't make a move to take it and she pales at the realization he doesn't want to be handed anything from her anymore.

Peter reached over plucked the papers from her hand and placed them in front of Tony. He pushed out of his chair and walked over to his desk to grab a pen. While he was walking back he grabbed a scrap piece of metal from one of the lab tables. "Here is a pen Tony," he says softly and hands the man the pen as he is finishing up reading the contracts. Tony takes the pen without even glancing at Peter. Pepper scoffs at the interaction. Peter is flipping the metal in his hands and finally stands straight in front of Pepper slowly his starts to bend the metal with his bare hands until it goes from a straight line to a small circle in his hands. He looks Pepper in the eye, "Listen I know this is probably a lot to take in all at once and I would be sore if I lost Tony so I don't blame you for not being my biggest fan but I'm not going anywhere and we are happy. It also might serve you well to remember that I am not your average college student which is why we get each other like no one else does."

As he is speaking he throws the metal ball he has crushed in his hands at the wall where it makes a hole in the concrete. Tony looks up at the noise then looks around at the lab tables then looks to Peter with his eyebrows asks what was that?" Peter smirks and says "You can call T'challa and let him know the vibranium did not hold up to my spidey strength." Rhodey now is intrigued and walks over to pick up the metal ball from the floor "Vibranium ... Pete that makes you stronger than Cap. You could break the shield." Both Tony and Peter tense slightly at the mention of Captain America, Peter places a hand on Tony's shoulder and looks to Rhodey with a smile, "That's exactly what it means and I would enjoy that rematch very much."

Tony pushes the signed paperwork over to Pepper who is frozen and pale looking at the dent in the walls. She is not sure how she had momentarily forgotten the boy was Spider-Man but now she sees how he is standing at his full height radiating strength and protectiveness over Tony while Tony is looking at Peter as if he hung the moon.

Tony takes Peter's hand and gives it a quick kiss turns back to Pepper, "Like Peter said we are happy and we plan on staying that way for a very long time. If there isn't anything else.. there are some schedules and new legal updates Friday has forwarded you. Peter's college schedule will reflect my own schedule now, meaning all business trips over a day long will have to be on one of his breaks or in the summer. I will be only doing work for R&D during any of his exam weeks - no meetings and the week of the Fourth of July we will be abroad and should not be bothered. I think that's all I have for you right now Miss Potts."

Pepper was stunned, Tony never so much as remembered her birthday but yet he was arranging his entire life around Peter's academics. "I'm not sure any of this scheduling will work, this is business and it happens fast you have to be available for emergencies and meetings. You can't just kick back with your boy toy. What will I tell the board of directors!?"

"This is the schedule that I will be following and that is my final word. You may be CEO but I'm still the owner of this company and I won't go to any meetings and deal with any emergencies unless I see fit. And you can tell the board I am with my partner and they can shove it. Any other issues please email me. This floor is no longer accessible to you once you have left today." Pepper stomped out of the lab after grabbing her papers and yelled "You are going to ruin everything you have built Tony!" Before the door closed Tony yelled back "I already did that!" And he looked over at Peter who was already staring back and him, "I am putting it back together now." Peter blushed slightly and brought Tony into a hug. "I'm sorry for the things she said sweetheart." Peter sighed and kissed Tony on the nose "It's ok Tony, nothing I didn't expect."

Rhodey cleared his throat and walked back to sit down at the table, "So that was not fun in the least. What's next on the agenda my nerdy lab friends?" The two other men chuckled and Peter picked up his tools, walking towards Rhodey. " Well I 'm going to check out your braces, start scanning Friday, then Chinese for dinner before I have to patrol. Think you could keep this one company for a while?"

Tony huffed "I'm not a charity project and why wouldn't he want to spent the night with his long lost best friend?"

"Oh I think I have some free time to listen to your ego for a bit ya know since it comes with Chinese food." Rhodey winked at Peter.

Tony threw his hands up and raised his voice a bit, "Wait wait wait! You aren't going to say anything about us being together? No comments? No questions? What gives Platypus?"

Rhodey laughed, "I already assumed you two were together. The only surprise is that Pete has moved in and his clearance level. Not that either of those is a bad thing in my opinion." Rhodey looked from Tony to Peter who were both wearing confused looks, he sighed and muttered "Two geniuses just the same. Look while I have been away I call to check in and if you are busy Tones or have a protocol up I don't insist that Friday push my call through. However, Friday does give me a current update at how you are and what is happening. After Germany I got a lot of Boss has locked himself in the lab and is not accepting any calls but then Friday would say but Mr Parker is due to come at 4 and he will have access to the lab and he usually brings dinner for Boss. Then it became Boss is in the lab but Mr. Parker is currently persuading him to get dinner and go to sleep. And so on, I knew Peter had it handled and once you started returning the calls Tones I could hear it in you voice that you had settled a little and weren't so lost. If you are looking for my opinion - I approve, not that either of you need it."

Tony was up on his feet and walked over to his best friend hugging him tightly he whispered a thank you. Then he cleared his throat, gave Peter a kiss and head towards the door. "I'm going to go take a shower and I'll have Friday order the food. Do you want extra dumplings for when you get back from patrol Pete? " Peter nodded "Yes please, 2 orders" he responded. Tony hummed in response and turned to Rhodey "Anything special for you Honeybear?" "Dumplings sound good and fried rice if it is from that place on 5th." Rhodey responded. As Tony walked out they heard him tell Friday to add on the extras and have it delivered in an hour.

Peter returned his focus on the braces and holograms he was working on while Rhodey took a moment of silence before leading into the next part of what he wanted to tell the younger man.

"So.." Rhodey began but was quickly cut off by Peter who snapped his head toward the man, "Please don't say all of that was a lie, he has been nervous about telling you, said he really doesn't want to lose another friend." Rhodey sighed, "No no I meant everything I said Peter, I only wanted to tell you in private thank you for taking care of him. He looks healthier and happier than I've seen in a very long time, hell maybe ever. And he is so stupid if he thinks he is ever getting rid of me." Peter let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He turned back to work as he spoke softly "Thank you for your support. It means a lot and it means the world to Tony. I'm so glad he is doing better but I am not doing too much. Those first days were rough and there are still bad days but it's getting easier and he helps me through my own bad days. It's a good balance. I'm happy to be here with him." Rhodey turned serious after thinking for a moment. "Not much, Peter you are doing more than you know. You are accepting Tony for Tony which no one has ever done before. It's everything to him." Peter shrugged and moved the holograms to the side. "He is everything to me so I guess that is fitting. He doesn't deserve all the shit that has happened and now he deserves to have some peace."

Peter worked on updates to Rhodey's leg braces for the next hour while telling some funny stories from his latest patrols. Rhodey enjoyed the stories just as he has when Peter would visit him while he was still recovering in the hospital and rehab. Friday alerted them that dinner had arrived as Peter finished the updates.

When they arrived in the penthouse Tony had all the food set up on the table and was coming out of the kitchen. "Come on. I know you're hungry sweetheart, you only had one sandwich for a snack." Tony declared as he pulled Peter into a quick hug. Rhodey laughed, "Damn spider metabolism lucky you're a billionaire Tones." Peter blushed but stacked his plate and started eating. Tony laughed and began eating himself, "Oh he is worth any food bill I have to pay. Right my little spider dumpling?" Peter almost choked on his fried rice and whines "Toooony!"

Dinner was nice with the friends catching up and soon Peter was suited up and ready to swing back to Queens. He said goodbye to Rhodey and took Tony's hand to pull him out to the landing of on the roof. They stayed hugging for a few minutes whispering I love you, be safe, I'll be waiting and enjoy time with your friend, I'll be back soon, I love you.

And with that Peter swung off the roof and began to get some stats from Karen. Tony watches him swing until he was out of sight and then turned around to go back inside. Rhodey was sitting with a chess game out on the table, "Should we throw it back and have an old school game while we wait?" "Oh sure if you came to lose I'll be happy to help you out." Tony responded.

In the middle of the first game Rhodey decided to dive into the elephant in the room, "So you doing ok after this afternoon, that was a lot with Pepper." Tony scratched his neck and sighed "Yea I expected that I'm glad you and Peter were there so it wasn't a one on one show down but I won't let her hurt Pete. I hope she realizes how serious I am and I won't allow anyone to hurt him." Rhodey nodded, "From her reactions I think she does, she was shocked but I think she saw it is very real. I'm not going to lie she went white as a sheet when she remembered Peter was Spider-Man." Rhodey chuckled and Tony shook his head, "People love to underestimate him, all smiles and so skinny but he can do more damage than the Hulk if he wanted to." Rhodey hummed in response and went on "You know I would like to help you guys out so why don't I go and see Pepper tomorrow tell her this is for real don't mess around just make the changes ya know? Maybe that will help." Rhodey paused and glanced up at Tony, who was looking at him intently. "You both were there for me when I needed someone and I want you to know so have your backs with this even if others don't see it. I see how you two are good for each other and I like seeing you happy Tones." Tony was speechless for a moment then smiled and said "Thanks Honeybear that means more than you know to both of us. It's going to come out and it's probably going to be a shit show but I can't lose him. I will lose everything I have if it means I can keep this with Peter." Rhodey only nodded, a quiet understanding between the two longtime friends.

They played a few games when they were interrupted by Friday stating Peter was ten minutes out from the tower and Karen was reporting a small laceration on his leg but no other injuries to report. Tony huffed and took out a first aid kit from the kitchen, "Friday start the shower at Peter's temperature setting," he ordered with a wave of his hand.

Rhodey watched as Tony busied himself getting ready to take care of Peter and once the elevator beeped to signal the younger man's arrival Tony was waiting at the door holding him in a tight embrace as soon as he stepped out. "Shower is all set for you baby and then I'll fix that cut up and make you a hot drink." Tony said softly as he guided Peter towards the bedroom. Peter nodded quietly, gave Rhodey a little wave and disappeared into their shared room. Tony came back a minute later and started warming up hot chocolate. "You want tea, coffee or hot chocolate Honeybear? It's good for Peter to unwind a little after patrol so he usually likes a hot chocolate which I do make the best one around." Tony takes as he worked around the kitchen. Rhodey watched intently, "You make a good hot chocolate? Well I never thought I would see the day but I'll take one of those."

Peter appeared in the door of the kitchen in comfortable clothes, laughing, " Yes he is a very good barista now." Tony gave Peter a quick kiss and pointed to the couch, "You go and sit, I'll look at the cut and then the drinks should be ready."

Now Rhodey saw the other side of the balance Peter spoke of earlier in the day. Tony taking care of Peter gently and being his comfort as much as Peter was that for Tony in a different way. Rhodey brought the hot drinks into the living room to see Peter's cut was a lot larger than he expected but Peter looked up with a wink and said "Don't worry Rhodey it will be healed by morning." Rhodey huffed this time "Must be nice to have that healing factor." The three enjoyed each other's company while they drank their hot chocolate, it was a rare quiet night for any of them.

In the early morning hours as Rhodey came out to the kitchen to get some coffee, he found the two men cuddled on the balcony couch. Cozy in many blankets with Tony's head in Peter's lap with Peter slowly petting Tony's hair and Tony's eyes red from a night terror. Rhodey smiled behind their backs and started making breakfast after having Friday snap a picture and started a new folder called the Perfect Balance. He would help keep these two soulmates together he made a silent promise to then and himself.

#starker #fluff #tony stark/peter parker #tony stark #peter parker #tony stark x peter parker

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sarahowritesostucky · 1 year ago

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📖"Wet Dream" - Rated E

(gorgeous manip in the top frame of the banner made by the amazingly talented @kocuria)

Pairing: Bucky x Steve

Tags: Dom/sub au, age gap (20's/40's) , cock cages, orgasm delay/denial, m! rec. oral, submissive release, teasing, light humiliation, tiny!dick Steve, size kink, dumbification, subspace

Summary: Bucky's teased him for twelve days, and Steve's taken it beautifully, going down easier each night that he's denied and tucked away into his cage. It's no wonder he's started having wet dreams, humping the bedding without any self-control.

Bucky is drawn from sleep by a cadence of soft, breathy sounds. At first, he doesn’t realize what it is that’s woken him. He’s too busy yawning and shuddering through a big stretch, eyelids fluttering from the assault of sunlight streaming in through his east-facing bedroom windows. It isn’t until he’s lying there, rubbing the phantom ache from his left shoulder and reconsidering the purchase of blackout curtains like he does every morning, that he hears it:

A soft, pleasured little “oghn,” from Steve’s side of the bed.

Bucky’s eyes shoot open and he turns his head with an incredulous expression, thinking that Steve’s over there touching himself. But he isn’t awake, and Bucky feels his cock stir as he realizes that Steve isn’t touching himself.

Steve’s never been the type to brat in obvious ways—emphasis on “obvious,” because he does have his ways. And those behaviors usually get worse the more stressed out over something he is. These past few weeks have been busy and fast-paced. Steve’s work keeps loading new patients onto his already overfull plate, and Bucky’s got his three (soon to be four) businesses to run. That means a lot of time spent apart. But Bucky’s not neglectful. He’s been domming Steve in one of the only ways he has available to him when they get less than a single waking hour to spend together each day, for day after day after day: Denial.

Steve had accepted another tease and tuck last night with nothing more than a whimper and a sniffled, ‘yessir’, that’d made Bucky’s dick attempt a second coming, even after he’d already fucked a load between Steve’s tightly-clamped and oiled thighs.

No, Bucky thinks, watching his boy in the morning’s mote-specked sunshine. Steve isn’t touching himself; he’s dreaming.

He’s on his front, face turned towards Bucky on the pillow, pretty lashes fanned out against his cheeks while he dreams. He’s breathing open mouthed and moaning quietly, a concentrated little pinch lodged firmly between his eyebrows. It looks like he’s struggling to find completion even in his dreams.

“Mmm … nnn, unngh, mmm—”

Bucky chuckles. “Poor baby,” he murmurs, turning on his empty side to watch.

He’s always had a bit of a thing for touching his subs when they’re unable to resist, and sleep is no different than a bunch of well-tied jute, in that regard. In a lot of ways it’s even better, even more of a surrender. You can’t safeword when you’re unconscious, after all. It’s something you have to consent to while knowing full well how vulnerable you’ll be. How helpless. The sheer intimacy inherent in that level of trust is breathtakingly seductive to someone like Bucky.

Bucky wore an old Army tee shirt and some boxers to bed last night, but as a matter of protocol, Steve always sleeps naked. Bucky reaches over and trails a single finger down the muscled slope of his back, warm and firm, all the way down to his absolute peach of an ass. Not squeezing it is almost painful, but Bucky refrains anyway, not wanting the moment to end quite yet.

“My little blanket hog,” he whispers fondly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Steve’s been humping the mattress, the blankets and sheets pulled over and bunched under his hips from a night’s worth of fitful sleeping. He’s squirming and moaning out the cutest, most helpless little noises, making Bucky want to eat him right up.

He turns away, because he’s gonna need arms for this.

He moves carefully to avoid waking Steve, reaching over the side of the bed to grab his prosthesis off the floor. It hums in recognition when he holds it up at the anchor site, snapping into place and all the plates giving a synchronized shiver as the system recalibrates.

He scoots over and puts his face right by Steve’s so that he can watch him wake, retracing with his flesh hand: down the slope of his back, across his sacrum, and between his cheeks. He traces over his hole and further down, to stroke fingertips absently against the plump stretch of his taint. Even that part of him is a little swollen, which makes Bucky’s heart squeeze and his dick ache at how much he knows his boy has taken from him in the past few days.

Willingly taken, Jesus. The thought of it just about does Bucky in.

He circles his fingers, using only the barest amount of pressure. Steve makes another quiet sound in his sleep, the touch obviously finding its way into whatever dream he’s having. Bucky smiles and reaches further between his legs to cup the velvety skin of his sac. His balls are warm and full, and Bucky tuts in sympathy. He lies next to him and kisses at his slack mouth while he wakes up. When Steve’s eyes finally flutter open, he looks lost for a moment.

Bucky hums. “Hey, Sugar. Looked like you were having some real sweet dreams, there.”

“Mmmh?” Steve shivers and sticks his ass back for more as he registers the hand between his legs. “M’yeah.” He sighs. “I was.” He starts moving his hips again, thrusting into the bunched sheets with more coordination and intent. “Nnn, fuck.”

Bucky pinches his inner thigh. “None of that, now. Only what I give you.”

Steve groans miserably, but after a second’s hesitation he does obey, rolling over to avoid the temptation of humping the bed any further.

Bucky slides one hand up to paw at the swell of his chest—massive, muscled, hairless—and nuzzles into his neck, inhaling the scent of Steve that’s so present after a night’s sleep. God, he loves it. “What were you dreaming about?” he asks between kisses to his neck. He hears Steve hum, feels one of his hands appear on his forearm to play along the dusting of hair there. Steve mumbles something unintelligible and lazy, probably having already let his eyes slip closed again. “Ah ah,” Bucky purrs. “Tell me.” It’s light, playful, laced with a hint of his Command to get Steve flustered.

“Mmm. Um …” Steve shudders as Bucky captures a nipple and rolls it between his fingers. “Buck, oh. Y-you.”

“Me?” Bucky chuckles. “What about me, huh?”

“Oh, I … unh, I dunno.”

He nips Steve’s neck, fingers pulse-pinching his nipple to the cadence of his words: “Uh-uh, Sleepy-head. Tell-me.”

“Mmm, was fuckin’ you,” Steve says, lazy smile playing at the edges of his mouth like he’s still dreaming it. “Only … you had a pussy?” He frowns and then giggles. “I dunno. Makes no sense. Like when you dream your dog as a cat, you know? And like, in the dream it’s a cat, but dream-you still knows it’s your dog?”

Bucky snorts. “I don’t know which is worse: the thought of you secretly being a cat person, or you secretly being straight.”

“Buck, you’re a cat pers—”

“Watch your mouth, boy,” he says, in his best Dom growl, eliciting another giggle from Steve.

“But you’ve got Alpine—"

“She’s a roommate, you little smartass.”

“Still uses a litterbox,” Steve grumbles.

Bucky ignores that and goes back to mouthing at his neck. “Anyway, now that I know how you really feel about pussies … and pussies—” Steve whines and smacks at his forearm, and Bucky grins against his skin. “Settle down, you. I’m just teasin’. Tell me more.”

“Mmn.” Steve pouts. “No.”

“‘No’?” Bucky says it warningly, letting his voice dip down into that dark and viscous register where it carries the extra weight needed to make Steve shiver pleasantly. He kisses the shell of his ear. “Want to try that again, sweetheart?”

“Nnn. I don’ remember anything else. Jus’ felt good.”

“And you were fucking me. And I had a pussy.” He lets his nail dig in at Steve’s nipple, grinning when it elicits another shiver. “Only pussy I see around here is between your legs, honey. Right behind that little thing you call a penis.”

“S’a dream,” Steve complains, blushing prettily at the jab to his cock (Bucky knows what his boy likes). “Doesn’t have’ta make sense.”

“Hm, you’re right. It sure doesn’t. But dreams can be telling sometimes.” Bucky stretches out alongside Steve’s big body, one foot hooked over his shin to keep his legs spread apart. “Look down and watch,” he murmurs. He waits until Steve has obeyed before he starts to slide his flesh hand down over that drool-worthy chest, those hardened abs, that flat belly framed by those thick obliques. All the way down to the place where silicon meets skin.

Steve’s still wearing the sweet mint green he went to bed in, though he’s got a whole slew of colors to choose from. A lot of internet shopping had happened, back when Bucky first became Steve’s keyholder. He’d found a site that would custom make any cage, any type, sized to fit; and then had a field day picking out all the pretty, soft pastel colors that the company offered. Just the fitting and the shopping and the trying-on had been exercises in the sort of delicate humiliation that Bucky knows Steve thrives on.

They’re not twenty-four-seven people, but when they do cage, they use rubber—some soft enough to give a good fondle through, others so sturdy that Bucky knows there’s no way Steve could ever dream about rubbing one out while locked. The custom fit is important, too. Most metal varieties of cock cages tend to be sized for more … endowed men, and Steve—to Bucky’s eternal delight—requires no such accommodation.

He closes his hand over Steve’s cock. “Whose is this?” he asks sweetly. “Mm?”

“Y-yours,” Steve breathes, licking his lips and staring down at Bucky’s hand. “Oh, ss’yours.”

“That’s right. And why did we decide that, hm? Can you remember that for me, big guy?”

It takes Steve several tries before he manages to stutter out a breathy, “I–I–I touch it. I t-touch it too much.”

Bucky hums in approval. “And I give you your pretty cages to help you with that, don’t I?”

“Yessir.”

“Help keep this sweet prick from getting too excited. Cause that’s when it starts getting big ideas, getting confused about what it’s for.”

Again, Steve nods distractedly, all of his attention down at the place where Bucky’s cradling his junk. “Th-thank you, Sir,” he whispers unprompted, grateful to Bucky, even after night after night of teasing and denial.

Bucky’s lips curl and his heart pretty much melts. Fuck, does he ever love this kid. “You’re welcome, baby. But then, are you supposed to be stimulating yourself in your cage?”

Steve sniffles and shakes his head. “Mm mn.”

Bucky tuts sympathetically. “It’s my fault. I thought you could handle the softer cage for bedtime. But that just lets you feel too good when you start squirming around in your sleep, huh? And once you get going, it’s real hard for you to stop.” Between Steve’s legs, he gives his handful a jostle. “S’okay. You know I don’t blame you for any of that. This big, dumb body’s got a lot of urges, that’s all.” He pecks a kiss to Steve’s ear and whispers, “You were humping the bed so much, puppy.” He snickers when this gets a mortified whine out of Steve. He tries to close his legs, but Bucky’s foot hooked over his shin prevents it. “Ah ah. Shhh. No need for that, pup. It was real pretty, I promise. I love watching you have wet dreams.” When he says the words ‘wet dreams’, he presses against the soft tip of the cage, dipping inside the hole with the edge of his thumb.

Steve’s breath hitches as it touches his slit. “Oh …”

“Mm. And it was a wet dream, wasn’t it?” Bucky draws his thumb away, a glistening thread of precum connecting it to the cage. “Lookit you. You’re leaking, honey.”

“Bucky.”

He lets go, sliding his hand up to rub over Steve’s pubic bone, just above where he knows he really wants it. His hips jump and shudder, a sad noise escaping him at the loss of the touch on his caged dick. “So,” Bucky says, amused. “You’re dreaming about fucking your Sir’s pussy. That’s an interesting one, especially since we both know you haven’t wormed that bitty clitty into a pussy in so long. Are you sure it even remembers how?”

“Oh.” Steve’s obvious embarrassment makes him beautiful. The pink flush that began on his face is now creeping steadily down his neck. Soon it’ll be to his shoulders, then his chest, and Bucky loves when Steve gives him a full-tit blush.

He trails his fingers lazily over the space between Steve’s belly button and his cock, watching the way all the fine muscles in his lower belly quiver as he tries to hold still. Inside the cage, his cock gives a noticeable twitch. “You’re real worked up this morning, huh?”

“S-sir,” Steve agrees, nodding, wetting his lips and glancing at Bucky’s face hopefully. “Please. Please.”

Bucky chuckles. He loves to see Steve so frustrated, and deep down, Steve loves to feel that way. It’s one of the best ways to help him go down. He’s on his way now. The lack of language is one hint, but if Bucky needed another, it’s right there on his face. One good look in his eyes, and Bucky knows they’re getting close. All that blue, thinned down to nothing but slivers, pupils eating up his irises as his brain prepares for the dump. He just needs more of a push.

Bucky turns further into him, giving him a bit more of his weight, more of his leg slotted between his thighs. Steve tries to hump him, but Bucky pulls back each time until Steve whimpers and the behavior stops. “Shhh,” he soothes, dipping down to kiss him. He’s soft but insistent, inviting himself inside and taking his own sweet time about it, really relishing the feel of their mouths slotted together, the press and play of their lips. And Steve’s like a goddamn stick of butter: melts at body temp, spreads like a dream.

“I wanna take you down, sweetheart,” Bucky tells him quietly. “That sound good to you?” Steve gives a dumb little ‘uh huh’ of a moan, nodding eagerly. Bucky smiles and nips his lip. “Hey now, I might keep you there for a while, maybe all afternoon.” He’s not asking so much as informing, but he knows that Steve is capable of speaking up for himself when needed—even when he’s on the precipice of losing his few remaining brain cells like he’s about to do right now.

Today is Steve’s first day off in almost fourteen, and even though Bucky has opinions on that, he’s still gonna grab some iota of consent, because he doesn’t want to hear his sub bitching about a wasted Sunday six hours down the line. “Not gonna make you do anything but feel,” he promises softly, brushing their lips together. “Alright sweetheart? Does that sound like fun?”

Steve exhales shakily, nodding. “Yes Sir.”

“Ooh, ‘Sir’. Somebody’s tryin’ to start the day out in my good graces.”

“Mmyeah.”

Bucky chuckles and goes back to kissing his neck and playing with his nipples. He pinches and rolls them, one and then the other, until they’re drawn into tight, sensitive peaks. “Do you need to cum, Stevie?” He hears Steve’s heavy swallow pass through his throat and feels him nodding his head.

“Uh huh.”

“Hmm. Yeah, you must be aching by now. This big ol’ body of yours. It just needs to cum all the time, doesn’t it?”

Steve whimpers and nods again, sighing out a shaky little ‘yeah’ that Bucky absolutely loves.

He loves everything about Steve, of course, but there’s just something so special about how he gets when he’s been denied for a while. He gets so desperate for it, so helpless in his need for physical release. Ultra-focused and yet dumbed down by it at the very same time. There’s nothing in the world like a six. Someone who actually needs what Bucky has to give. At this point, he’s quite sure that Steve’s ruined him for anyone else in the future.

That doesn’t exactly matter though, because—unbeknownst to Steve—Bucky’s got about sixty thousand dollars worth of forever hiding in the back of his watch drawer, just waiting for the right time.

He hovers over Steve and gives him a kiss, slow and coaxing, licking at the seam of his lips to get into the heat of him. Steve lets him in, of course, and Bucky curls his fingers into the give of his waist in an approving squeeze. He pulls back and looks down. Steve’s dazed, blue eyes blink upwards, his lips still parted, a flush high up on his cheeks. He looks made of sunlight, so precious. Bucky smiles softly. “Alright, Angel. How many days has it been?”

“... Since?” Steve keys into his tone of voice and perks up. He starts to look hopeful, and when Bucky waggles his eyebrows at him, he exhales in a rush, a smile breaking out over his face. “Twelve,” he says. “Fuck, thank you. Twelve!”

Bucky snickers and rolls over to grab the key from its spot on the bedside table. When he comes back, he sits between Steve’s spread legs and pulls him down in the bed, until his thighs are draped over Bucky’s knees and his ass is all but in his lap. He unlocks the cage and removes it gently, setting the pieces aside. Steve’s dick is already reacting, soft but thickened, the head fattening up underneath the foreskin.

Bucky pushes it up against his belly, thumb dipping down to trace along the seam of his heavy balls. “Look at these puppies,” he murmurs. “So full. Are they full, baby?”

The muscles in Steve’s thighs keep flexing as he fights not to squirm. “Y-yeah.”

“Mmm.” Bucky holds one testicle between his fingers and rolls it, massaging gently and teasing, “More balls than cock on you—ain’t that just perfectly fitting for a stubborn little hothead like you?”

“Buck,”

“Tell me how they feel,” he purrs, his Command laced through the words just enough to help Steve sink a little more.

“Th-they feel … heavy,” Steve whispers. “Hot n’ … n’ tight.”

“I’ll bet. Twelve whole days since you’ve busted a nut.” Steve whimpers and Bucky tickles the plump stretch of skin behind his balls. “And how long since I really wrang out your prostate good and proper?”

“Oh. Uh, um …” his throat bobs and his eyes slip shut as Bucky pets him. “Uhm … m-maybe three?”

“Three weeks.” Bucky whistles lowly and cups his taint. “No wonder you look swollen back here, boy.”

He can’t deny that he isn’t a complete letch of an old man, because he loves to see Steve blush (or in this case, blush harder) at being called “boy”—as if Bucky’s a full fledged man and Steve is only halfway there. It’s a stretch, but there are things that’ve been further from the truth.

“Aand,” he angles his fingers in. “What about release?”

A little wrinkle of concentration appears between Steve’s eyebrows as he tries to generate useful thought in his brain. It’s adorable. “I … I don’t kno—oh!”

“Don’t know?” Bucky simpers. He’s curled his fingers in behind Steve’s balls, pressing to get at that vulnerable spot that can sometimes trigger his releases. It won’t right now. He hasn't sunk enough for it yet. “Don’t lie to your Dom, Sweetiepie. You’re really tryin’ to tell me you don’t remember the last time you went all soft n’ useless for me? The last time you went ass up n’ wet all over yourself?” He hushes Steve’s embarrassed keen, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. “That’s okay, Stevie. I remember. I remember all of ‘em.”

Release isn’t something Bucky’d encountered in a partner before Steve. Not every sub has them, and it’s not something they can control. A rush of spasms and body fluids, dump of brain chemicals twice as strong as those brought on by typical subdrop. Such a deep response only really happens for sixes—Maybe some fives, if they’re with the right dom. It is … intensely private; something people tend to either fetishize, or else weirdly disdain.

Steve’s always been embarrassed of his, but that’s something Bucky’s been working to break him of. There is nothing more arousing, more primal, more flattering, than having a sub’s body signal submission in that way. Bucky had shot up to the freakin’ stratosphere of domspace the first time it’d happened, unused to the stimulus. He’d been useless for a bit, and it was just lucky that they’d been in a club at the time. The DM had stepped in and taken care of Steve until Bucky was capable again.

“It’s been just about five weeks since you gave me one,” he says, anticipating the distressed whimper that comes out of Steve. He rubs over his lower belly soothingly. “I know, I know. S’been too long, huh big guy? All that pressure building up. You know what the doctor said.”

“Buck,”

“But you’re always at work, Sweetheart. Hell, I feel like I haven’t seen you in days. I barely have.”

“M’right here, jerk.”

Bucky pinches his inner thigh, but there’s little heat to it, just the familiar griping of their relationship. He’s been on Steve for months to find a less demanding job. Steve doesn’t get paid enough and the people at his work take advantage of his good nature. (Bucky had figured out, very early on in their contract, that Steve was one of those subs who pushed themselves too hard in their professional endeavors, and then needed to have the resultant stress dommed out of them.)

Bucky grumps, “You don’t listen to your Sir when he tells you to set boundaries, to clock out on time, to come home.” He plays idly with Steve’s cock and balls as he scolds him, pinching lightly here and there. “How am I s’posed to take care of you proper?”

“Mmn … n-not my fault,” Steve slurs. His eyes are closed and the curl of his mouth looks none too chastised. “S’still work. Somebody’s gotta help the patients, n’ I still gotta—”

Bucky flicks his balls. “It’s still bratting. Don’t think I don’t see right through you, Rogers. Like you don’t have twenty coworkers who could pick up that slack if you refused to.Excuses.”

Steve’s insistence on doing the right thing has always been his own little way of shirking authority, of misbehaving until it gets him what he really needs: someone to step up and put him in his place. Bucky has—exasperatedly but enthusiastically—been filling that role for the past eighteen months. He knows Steve’s needs like he knows his own, and he knows his body almost better than his own.

That’s why he’s let him out of the cage and why he’s all but got Steve’s ass in his lap right now. It’s not so much that Steve needs an orgasm, but that he needs to be dropped good and thorough, a milking, maybe even a full release, if Bucky can manage to work one out of him. Steve’s body doesn’t like to give those up, and it’s less predictable.

“I miss you, honey,” Bucky coos at him. Other than some shallow bossing around at bedtime, he hasn’t had any opportunity to care for his boy these past few weeks (and seriously: fuck the underfunded and stretched thin structure of the V.A.). “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says quietly, squeezing Steve’s inner thigh muscles deeply. “You listening?”

“Yes Sir,” Steve whispers.

“I’m gonna touch you, play with you a bit. Make you feel good.”

“Cum?” Steve asks hopefully, and Bucky snickers.

“Edge,” he says, giving Steve another pinch when he wiggles and whines. “Hush, now. I told you: I want to play with you for a while. I’m gonna get you so worked up, baby.”

“Hurts,” Steve whimpers, moping over it. “Bucky.”

“Shh.” Bucky tickles his sac. “Yeah, it’ll ache, but I’ll drop you so good that you won’t even be in your body to feel it, after a while.” Though there’s a great deal of intersection, the things that bring the best sexual climaxes aren’t always the same as the things that bring the best sexual submissions. Bucky watches as a pleased shiver runs through Steve’s body at the promise of a good drop. They both know which of the two is more important for someone like Steve. On the bed in front of him, Steve visibly starts to relax a little more. Bucky smiles and massages his thighs. “Mmhm, that’s it. It’s been hard for you lately, hasn’t it?”

“Mmm. Buck. Yeah. … Been so—mmm—so stressed.”

Bucky coos and rubs up along either side of his pelvis, digging his thumbs in at the crease of his groin. “You gonna try and go down easy for me this time?”

“Please,” Steve whimpers sadly. “Buck, I do. I’m … I want to.”

“Shh sh sh. I know, honey. I know you do. And you know you’re my good boy. Always.”

It’s often hard for Steve to get past the barrier of his natural stubbornness, to let himself go soft enough to shed that shallow, false dominance he wears around like a shield. It’s people like Steve that Bucky designed his clubs for: high level doms and subs who aren’t partnered and want to get their kicks met somewhere safe, sexy, and affordable.

Steve was assessed high needs in middle school, and while general designation is socially common knowledge after puberty, one’s level within that designation is not. One through six, or switch. Your doctor knows, your parents know, you tell your boyfriend or girlfriend, maybe a few close platonic friends—more people, if you’re typical. But people who are high needs don’t tend to go around bragging about it. Bucky knows firsthand the awkwardness of having to explain to someone new that you fall on the far end of the spectrum, just like he knows that he’s one of only a few people with whom Steve has ever entrusted his status as a six.

Bucky pets his skin and feeds him quiet rumbles and purrs, compliments and directions, calling him beautiful and giving him easily obtainable goals, most of them simple orders to hold still in one way or another. “Keep your eyes closed,” he murmurs. “Just focus on me touching you. Isn’t that nice? Yeah Sweetheart, I know, I know.”

Steve is a gorgeous human being who tends to turn heads wherever he goes. He’s young (27) and beautiful, and if Bucky weren’t so confident in his own masculinity at his advancing age (41), he might actually be in danger of developing a complex. Because Steve is the one whom most people notice first when the two of them walk into a room together. His size draws the eye and his features keep the interest, with his Botticelli face and the type of body that few people are willing to work hard enough for. He really does look cut from marble, muscular and strong and textbook attractive. Steve’s is a beauty that pretty much smacks you in the face. And the absolute sweetest part of it all, is that he really doesn’t seem to be aware of it. A big, sweet, dumb blond.

Now how was Bucky ever supposed to not eat a boy like that up?

And then there’s the pièce de résistance: the fact that between his legs, Steve is small. Not tragically so, but compared to the rest of him it’s a striking difference. He’s got this surprisingly little dick nestled between his beefy thighs, hooded and delicate, propped against the generous pillow of his balls. Whenever Bucky sees his gorgeous juxtaposition of a body all laid out on a bed like this, he can’t help but feel like the man was made just for him.

Especially that sweet little cock.

He groans under his breath as he touches it, letting his fingertips drag over the soft skin. “Spread those legs a little wider for me, doll.”

Steve complies, hips flexing and scooching his butt down the bed another inch.

Under Bucky’s scrutiny and his glancing touches, Steve’s little dick twitches and jerks with interest. “Heere it comes,” Bucky murmurs, taking it between his fingers and stroking at the tip, working the little wrinkle of foreskin where it still covers the head. He dips his thumb inside and swirls it around, circling the tip of the glans. It’s all slick and gliding from the precum he’s already giving up, and Bucky rumbles, pleased. “Well lookit that. You always wet up so easy for me, dontcha baby?”

“Fuhh-ck,” Steve slurs. “Buckee.”

He’s been going down easier with each day that Bucky continues to deny him, the surrender of giving up his sexual pleasure turning him into the kind of soft and pliant sub that Bucky’s always known he could be. It just takes a little extra coaxing for Steve, a little extra time, his big body and stubborn brain fighting the process harder (and needing it more) than most people Bucky’s dated in the past. Being with Steve has, without doubt, made Bucky a better dom.

Steve’s prick slowly thickens in Bucky’s hand, even though Bucky’s barely touching him. “Well look at you, big guy,” he purrs. “Fattening up real nice for me, aren’t you?”

Steve whines and squirms in pleasure, and Bucky teases him a little more with his words and his hands, telling him how pretty his little dick is, how cute. Bucky loves humiliating Steve over his size—both his “big dumb body” and his “pretty little prick.” Of course, it’s always that special brand of sweet and tender humiliation that they have between them, anything rougher than that being outside of Steve’s limits. Bucky’s boy is so sensitive, needs to be handled so gently. Gently, but firmly. And even with all the teasing, Bucky’s always gone to great lengths to make sure Steve knows what an absolute dream he is.

“Thought I told you to close your eyes,” he chides, when he looks up and sees Steve peeking at him. Steve makes a cute little squeak of a sound and his eyes slip shut, and Bucky smiles. “Thatta boy.” He starts to stroke him off lightly, only using his two fingers and thumb to work the foreskin in a gentle motion. Steve inhales deeply and his cock fills out the rest of the way. “There you go,” Bucky murmurs. Completely hard like this, Steve’s a little more than half Bucky’s size. “So pretty, honey.”

Underneath his boxers, Bucky’s own dick is chubbed up and eager for more, but he ignores it. He’s got plans for himself later. Smoothing his metal hand over Steve’s belly, he jerks him off slowly but steadily, until the foreskin is drawn down and the shiny pink head of him peeks through on each stroke, precum getting on Bucky’s fingers and making everything nice and wet. “Tell me when you’re close,” he whispers, and a few minutes later Steve’s whispering back,

“Close—oh,”

“Shhh.” Bucky lets go of his dick and rubs his inner thighs to get him to calm down, watching the bob of his Adam’s apple and the shine of those lips that he’s licked and bitten pink. His blond hair is all rumpled from sleep and his skin is golden in the stream of morning sunlight coming through the bedroom windows. He’s so incredibly, painfully beautiful; looks like a flipping Greek god, an Adonic youth, a spoil of war. Steve arouses in Bucky every instinct he’s ever had to take and dominate and own. Sometimes he really wonders what an old asshole like him did to earn such a perfect boy.

“Love you, Stevie,” he murmurs, going back to stroking him. “Being so good. Remember, you just tell me when. That’s your only job right now. That’s all you have to do. Don’t gotta think or worry about aanything else.” Steve seems to melt into the bedcovers at hearing this, which is, of course, the entire point. Bucky knows exactly how to talk to his boy to bring him down into the absolute best headspace. “Good,” he praises lowly. “So good for your Dom, sweetheart. So sweet to let me play with this little cock however I want.”

The second peak comes quickly, and even Steve seems surprised by it when he manages to choke out a quiet little “... close,” after only a few seconds.

He lasts a little bit longer on the third. Bucky keeps his grip very light and gets a few full minutes of stroking in before Steve’s breathing picks up and he gasps out another “close!”

Bucky lets go, humming his approval for Steve to hear and rubbing the crest of his groin on either side, all over his waxed-smooth pubic mound and the place where his thighs meet his body. “Suuch a good boy.” He watches Steve recover, face pinked after the difficulty of that third edge, the swell of his chest rising and falling as he regains his breath.

And fuck, those tits. They’re big and beefy, heaving and flushed and just barely starting to shine from perspiration. Bucky can’t keep himself from touching, leaning forward to grope each thick pec, and then pinch and pluck at his nipples. He’s so swollen and puffy there, looks like he just came from benching two-fifty at the gym. Bucky lets his nails drag down the right side as he pulls back. “You’re doing beautifully,” he praises, even though they’ve barely started the edging. It isn’t uncommon for Bucky to bring Steve close and back him off from orgasm dozens of times in one session. He doesn’t plan to keep this going too much longer, though. He just wants to get him to cry a little before they get up to start their day.

He starts stroking again, still using those same, easy touches; gentle and gliding. When Steve utters his next, “close,” Bucky stops stroking but doesn’t remove his hand, letting Steve’s cock rest, wet and throbbing, inside the loose curl of his fist. He tuts and fondles him while they wait. “Ooh, honey. I could feel that one.” He gently traces the vein on the underside, up to the frenulum and his drawn down foreskin. He eases it back up over the head, and even hard like this, it almost covers him. Bucky thumbs over it, smearing the next blurt of precum around. “So pretty,” he murmurs.

“Please, Sir.” Steve’s voice sticks a little bit in his mouth, like he needs a drink of water, and he licks his lips before he says again, “Please, lemme cum.”

Bucky hums as if he’s actually considering it (he isn’t). “Maybe,” he purrs. He lets go of his cock and strokes his balls instead, one hand holding the full weight of his sac while the other feathers light touches over the delicate skin. Steve’s got big, tight balls that always look plump and pulled up close to his body, but especially so when he’s been deprived of an orgasm for a few days. And right now, they’re coming up on twelve days. “Just think,” Bucky murmurs, “think of all the cum that’s backed up in here right now. Cause you cum a lot, Stevie, don’t you?”

Steve whimpers and gives a sad little nod.

Bucky grins and makes a mocking sound of pity. “Yeah, poor baby. They must be sore, huh? So full, so hot and tight. Are they, Honey? All hot n’ tight?”

“Please, yes, please.”

“Just aching to get some release.” He circles lazily around the shape of his balls underneath the skin, one side and then the other. “And you want to cum so bad. I don’t blame you.” He titters and lets go of his sac, because that’s a major erogenous zone for Steve, and Bucky knows he can’t handle having his dick stroked and his balls played with at the same time without going off. “It’s not healthy,” he teases, mock sympathy in his voice as he starts gently stroking him off again. “A boy your age not not gettin’ a good nut out on the regular. If not a couple times a day, then at least once every other day.” Steve whimpers and Bucky grins evilly and pretends to forget. “How many days has it been, again?”

“Twuh–twelve, ssir,”

Bucky sucks his teeth sympathetically. “Oh, that’s right. Twelve. Hmm.” Abruptly, he starts to jerk him off a little harder than he has been doing, giving him more pressure, rubbing at the underside of the head on each upstroke. Steve’s breathing hitches and he tenses up like he thinks this is going to be it: he’s finally going to get to come.

Bucky slows back down to almost nothing, grip loose once again, and Steve makes a sound like a dying cat. Bucky, who lives for getting sounds like that out of Steve, all but purrs in pleasure, feeling high. “I want you to know,” he says, slowly and delicately, making the words into hushed, sweet and deadly things, “that I’m not gonna let you cum this morning.”

He soaks up the devastated little shudder that travels throughout Steve’s body as he processes that, the way his brow gets a disbelieving little pinch in it and then smoothes out with dawning realization that Bucky means what he says. The fight his body wages with his mind to accept it. “Nngh,” he whimpers pitifully. “Puh–please.”

“No, baby.”

“Please, please. Please …” He’s not really begging, is the thing. He tosses his head and fists the sheets, repeating the ‘please’ several times over, helpless and mournful. It’s his way of surrendering to it, his way of accepting what his dominant wants for him, what his dominant is doing to him. The second that Steve accepts that he’s feeling so good and that he’s not going to be given the relief he wants, that Bucky is going to be the one to decide, is the second he really, visibly tips into subspace. “Ohhgn …”

Bucky’s cock throbs angrily as he watches it happen. One second Steve is tense, and the next second he’s just … not. Goosebumps pop up all along his arms and legs, his body going unnaturally still for a few seconds, before it shivers loose into a pile of molten Steve on the bed. Bucky leans forward to cup his cheek, smiling when Steve presses his face into it. “That’s a good boy,” he murmurs fondly. “Juust like that.”

Steve sobs—just once, just a tiny hitch in his breath—and tears well up at the corners of his eyes. One of them breaks and rolls down and hits Bucky’s metal finger, and that’s about the exact moment when Bucky hits domspace.

People say you shouldn’t compare domspace to doing drugs, but Bucky’s done some drugs, and he knows it is exactly like being high. The best high you ever had, but sexual, and focused. Bucky feels charged and euphoric, completely zeroed into his sub and his reactions. He thumbs away Steve’s tears and gets his flesh hand back on his dick, feeling elated. “Okay sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Tell me when you’re ready for another.”

Steve whimpers, and they get back to it.

Steve is a useless mess by the time ten rolls around, and after number fifteen Bucky starts to worry that Steve won’t remember to verbalize when he’s close. Not because he’s trying to disobey, but because he’s just so far under. Wanting to end things on a good note, Bucky stops edging him after they narrowly avert crisis at sixteen, Steve’s face red and covered in tears, his body shaking while he cries. Bucky lies out on top of him and kisses him all over his face and neck and shoulders until he’s calmed down some.

Steve is still in his head, very dumb and pliant and happy, even once his cock goes soft. Bucky, buzzing with his own high, proceeds to take care of his boy in all the other ways that also matter. He feeds Steve water and a piece of chocolate straight from his tongue, puts him in the shower and washes him. He bends him over the bed and lubes him up and plugs him with the big, squishy day plug.

He has Steve lie on his back with his head out over the edge of the mattress and softly feeds him his cock. "Take it ... there you go ... jus' like that, oh ... good boy." Steve's gag reflex, normally just as stubborn as the rest of him, always goes dormant when he's down; his mind turning into soft, sticky molasses, and his body following suit. He goes lax and soft, easily accepting Bucky's thick cockhead past his parted lips, over his tongue and soft palate. His throat even feels relaxed when Bucky presses all the way in, his balls smushing against Steve's face and his hand gently massaging the front of his neck. "Takin' me so good, doll," Bucky praises, and he softly fucks his face in measured thrusts until he feels his orgasm coalesce at the base of his spine, down into his balls, pulling up into his core, electric and hot. "Oh yeah," he groans quietly, sighing as he comes down his boy's throat. Steve takes it like a champ, and Bucky pulls out and holds his jaw shut, petting him soothingly. “Shhh. Swallow it now, baby. Lemme see that throat working.”

Steve does. Bucky collapses onto the bed next to him and lies there, toying with Steve’s tight and full balls until he feels himself come back down a bit from domspace. “How you doing, babe?” he says from down by Steve’s shins.

“Mmm.”

“Still down?”

“Hhhn.”

Bucky chuckles and pats the top of Steve’s thigh. “Okay big guy. Okay.” He heaves himself up to go and find some sweats to throw on. They've got a nice, long, relaxing day ahead of them, and he's really looking forward to it.

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nerumii0 · 2 months ago

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I have no words to express my happiness towards this nice reblogs ❤️❤️

I'm still on the challenge, I left it postponed due to the strong storms that cause blackouts in my city and affect my follow-up, but I promise to continue with. I have the ideas and I hope to finish then as soon as possible T T

Thank you for supporting this fanart :'3

And I'm sorry if I didn't reply, I don't know how to do it directly, at this point I feel like a noob old lady on Tumblr XD

But anyway, answering to @phdbabygirlism, yes, I chose the cover idea, thank you very much for the nice suggestion :>

And lastly for @pure-penguin-gold , ah, nice questions my pal, to be honest I didn't think about the whole backstory very well, since at first I planned to draw them as I usually do, like human versions, but I don't know, I thought the concept wouldn't have hit as much as it's currently doing.

But let's begin, answering your questions and to create a interesting background, which by the way I hope will satisfy your curiosity, if not, any idea and suggestion you have in mind is welcome ^^

I was considering maybe a rich human got them, I mean having a boa like Savio is already a complex issue, because he managed to break his enclosure system easily from the two zoos where he had already been. So, he wouldn't even strive to break a common terrarium without so many safety protocols from a regular guy and wouldn't make sense at all why he's stuck in that terrarium alongside Clemson's annoying company :P

Given how expensive the materials are for reinforcing a good terrarium and subsequently preventing his escape, among some possible candidates as his owner, a rich human is perfect, he could cover those expenses.

He did not necessarily take them just like that at the same time in the same place, but rather he obtained them separately.

Starting with Clemson, considering the original plot we know very little of his origin, more than he's a multi-talented lemur giving the impression of being a servile subject who sought the crown and the power to reign unsuccessfully. Then, we've got nothing. Applying a different dynamic where he have never been in the Central Park zoo, and he never met Julien, instead of being a king, he seeks something similar to Blue Hen, a sort of wealth that will make him powerful and rich using his impressive wit and pretending to be servile for the humans in order to get what he wants.

I'm not sure yet what scenario would be accurate for the backstory of how the rich human did find him, but I'm up with these possibilities, such as in a private zoo, maybe an auction or an exclusive collectors club,

Surely it goes hand in hand with illegality, but not so close to animal abuse or exploitation, like I mentioned, Clemson used his charms winning over the staff of one of these places, and therefore the staff realized the amount of money they could earn thanks to him, to which Clemson didn't really mind temporarily, we know he's also a greedy guy, and he aimed to achieve being in hands of an influent human to be on top later.

The human attended in one of the possibilities and he got impressed by his skills and charming, so he decided to buy him, although Clemson doesn't see himself like a pet, instead considered the human his personal slave rather than his owner, and so since he earned a comfortable life, he didn't find the point to escape, in other words the owner's home it's a huge paradise for him. He has jewels, books, cozzy cushions to sleep and so on.

And of course, he has more liberties than Savio, he is able to go wherever he wants and where he shouldn't be without his owner noticing.

On the other hand, Savio's backstory wouldn't change much. Given his dangerous nature, I imagined that perhaps as Savio earned his bad reputation, through the news it reaches this human, I already mentioned the human is an animal fan, especially with reptiles, so Savio quickly caught all his attention, but unlike Clemson, the human had a more complicated time getting Savio, since at first animal control took it upon themselves to catch this untamable snake, basically saving him the dirty work. Maybe with bribes and through various dirty illegal paperwork processes he got him, In addition, Savio was at a disadvantage considering that the zoos where he had been no longer wanted to accept such an aggressive boa.

Savio is unaware of what awaits him, believing that he would be transferred to another zoo until he ends up in this human's mansion and that is where he meets Clemson. Savio arrives the same way he arrived at the Central Park Zoo and obviously attracts Clemson's attention, seeing a new animal around the mansion, at first makes him feel threatened to lose his chance to be on top, suspecting that Savio could be a rival, but after getting to know him he sees that he hasn't the slightest interest in human possessions, other than taking his revenge against the penguins and King Julien.

#tpom #tpom savio #tpom clemson #I hope this backstory makes sense #I'm not good at writing

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saltyyuuri · 8 days ago

Text

🪻In another life🪻

Iso x fem! Reader

PART 2

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5 - PART 6 - PART 7 - PART 8 - PART 9 - PART 10

Words: 2600

Warnings: mention of blood- mild violence and mental health. It's going to be angsty. This warning is simply going to be copy pasted to all chapters

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The flight back towards protocol headquarters was quiet. You were abnormally quiet, not even trying to strike up any conversation like you always did, just staring out the window, lost in thought. Of course your teammate, Iso, didn't pay no attention to your lack of chatter- it's not like he really would converse back anyways.

Even when you're back in headquarters, you kept the mission report brief and short, not over explaining anything and just keeping things as is- of course avoiding the detail that you and the omega-earth Iso had taken some time to talk. When it came to explaining what happened when you had got stuck in his ultimate, you simply said that you two fought it out, and you came out victorious.

Surprisingly no one tried to question you further even with the simple responses, just assuming you were tired or trying to get over experiencing that ultimate for the first time. Either way, you got dismissed pretty fast without further questioning. You didn't try talking to anyone else, heading straight to your dorm room and essentially locking yourself in there.

You took some time to take off your mission gear, take a good shower to try to calm yourself and relax as you could- but no matter what, you felt like you were missing something - or rather, someone.

You were already starting to miss Omega Earth's Iso, even if he wasn't like the one in your own universe. You were missing that version of him, missing how it felt so easy in the small instance where you were inside his ultimate. What felt like minutes to you in that pocket dimension was mere seconds in the real world, but you really wanted to have those seconds back another time.

Even though you knew it was wrong. You knew it was dangerous and irresponsible of you to have done that in the first place, for all you can know maybe he was just using you to try to get some Intel or get to you- and maybe you were just playing right into his plan. You know what you did was probably very stupid, but you couldn't help it.

Because you know if anyone finds out, if a word of what happened went around protocol- not only would it be embarrassing as hell, but you could also risk very big consequences from it all. It was nearly treason- acquainting with the enemy that way? You would definitely get kicked out of the team, if not killed on the spot to avoid any extra complications.

You sigh, slowly settling down on your bed as thoughts started to swarm more and more against your will. You didn't want to overthink it too much, seeing the circumstances and realizing the weight of what could have happened, your head was going haywire.

You curled yourself up under the blanket of your bed, kind of sleep off the overthinking, the pit of anxiety starting to form after what you've done. Sleep came hard and you were having a lot of trouble turning off your brain, only passing out for a few hours at a time before waking up and inevitably starting to overthink again. That cycle repeated a few times, never really checking your phone for time, and since you had blackout curtains you didn't realize what time of day even was at this point.

It was at some point when you woke up yet another time after resting for an unknown short period, someone knocked at your door. You forced yourself to get up tiredly, dragging yourself over to the door. You looked messy since you just got out of bed, but it was obvious that you weren't feeling too good nevertheless.

When you open the door, you come face to face with your friend Clove, who looked worried for you and also energetic as hell, as usual. Before you could say anything they pushed their way in to your room, shutting the door behind them. They put their hands on your shoulders and guided you back to bed to sit down, pulling out your office chair from your desk a bit further away to sit on themselves.

"What's going on?" Clove simply asked you, their elbows resting on their knees as they looked at you in concern. "What do you mean what's going on-you're the one who woke me up-" you mumbled out tiredly, emphasis put on your words the moment you stretched and yawned, trying to wake yourself up a bit more.

"It's noon, (Y/N), of course I'm going to come check up on you when you miss training and no one saw you get something to eat since you came back yesterday!" Clove said with their voice filled with concern now- they just realized that you had no idea just how long you were locked up in here, now really starting to wonder what happened during that mission.

"Noon-? Oh shit." You said as you felt yourself wake up much faster all of a sudden, immediately reaching out to grab your phone. You wanted to send a quick apology to Sova, he was usually the one to train you along with a few other agents in the morning, and Lord knew how cranky that guy could get if you missed training without advising. "Shit, Sova's going to kill me-" you mumbled out as you quickly pulled up a messaging app to send him a quick message to apologize.

Clove spoke up, shaking her head. "(Y/N), calm down, we all know Sova would never blow a fuse on you. I'm sure you could miss a whole week and the worst he'd do is grumble a bit." Clove said with a slight deadpan expression. You still sent a quick message to apologize, feeling a bit guilty nevertheless that you made some people worry. "Still. I didn't even realize what time it was myself."

Clove let silence take over for a few moments, trying to think on how they would ask their next question, knowing that you would probably try to avoid it anyways. "Did something happen during the mission?" Clove decided to go straight to the point when they asked you, and they hope that you would be honest about it.

But that question caused a spike of nervousness through you once more. You didn't want to lie to Clove- you two have made it abundantly clear to stay honest with each other. But... Knowing just how dangerous your actions could have been and knowing how bad the consequences could get, you didn't want to tell them. You were pondering your words, trying to figure out the best way to not lie to them without telling them exactly what happened.

Clove could see you trying to think on the best way to talk to them about it, and they had a feeling you would try to avoid it as much as you could. They let out a heavy sigh as they leaned back in the office chair, looking at you with concern but understanding at the same time. "Here, I'll just ask yes or no questions. If you don't want to answer, just don't answer."

You let out a small breath, knowing that yes or no questions would be a good way to avoid having any of the big information out. "Does your stress have to do with something that happened during the mission?" Clove asked first, trying to determine the bases. "Yes." You nodded along with your answer.

"Does it have to do with Iso?" Clove asked again, taking a guess that seemed the most logical. The only thing is you weren't too sure how to even answer on that one. You hesitated, trying to think of if it was a yes or no-since it wasn't fully with Iso, or at least not your earth's Iso. "...Kind of? It's complicated." You said, trying to not overspill as you spoke.

"Okay...? Is it with Omega Earth agents?" Clove tried again. This time you simply nodded, but your anxiety was starting to go up once again. "... Was there the Omega earth Iso?" Clove asked once more, and you nodded. You didn't know if you'd be able to answer any extra questions that would come from them- once again you didn't want to overshare and end up in big trouble.

"Something happened between you and Omega Earth Iso?" Clove asked once more. You felt a knot in your stomach starting to form. The questions were starting to Edge on dangerous territory and you didn't know if you should even answer this or not. But you knew your expression would be a dead giveaway anyways. "...Yes." You answer quietly, looking down at your hands that were resting on your lap.

You let out another breath, the stress of these questions were starting to make your hands sweaty and your stomach felt like it was about to get ill. "I don't want to talk about what happened." I finally said before they could ask anything else, drawing the line on the questions. This was all you were willing to tell them, that something happened, but you don't want to tell them what. "Alright. So something happened between you and Omega Earth Iso, it's obviously stressing you out but you don't want to talk about it." Clove simply confirmed, to which you nodded.

Clove took a short moment before talking again, considering their next words. Of course they were worried and also a bit hurt you didn't want to trust them with your secret- that you didn't trust them enough to talk about what happened- but they also understood that whatever happened had an impact on you. And that it was obviously stressing you if not scaring you right now.

"Well... Without necessarily telling me what happened- if you need to vent out any emotions, please don't bottle up. I know you have a tendency to get caught up in your own head, but I also understand that you don't want to talk about the situation itself." Clove said firmly, reaching out one of their hands to place on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze as they offered a small smile. They knew that it was a small attempt, but they also just wanted you to understand that they were there for you.

"Thank you." You said quietly, trying to not let your thoughts run once again. You were trying to figure out what your next move should be, what you could do to try to keep yourself distracted from your own mind. That solution came a bit faster than you thought- Sova texted you back pretty fast to respond to your apology for not being in training that morning.

He simply responded with 'it's okay, I understand if the mission took a lot out of you. Just tell me if you ever feel a bit better later today, we can catch it up!' and honestly, a good workout would probably do you wonders to keep your mind off things. "I think I'm going to go catch up on training, clear my head a bit." You said to Clove, slowly starting to get up from bed.

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And so here you are now, currently laid on one of the benches in the training room, slowly sipping on a protein shake while you had Sova scolding you beside you, all while trying to make sure that you were doing okay. How did you end up in that situation? You forgot to eat, simple as that. You didn't eat dinner after coming back from the mission nor did you eat breakfast or lunch today. Having that in mind-you went to go train on an empty stomach.

"Seriously, (Y/N)! It's the basics of being Human- how can you simply forget to eat?" Sova scolded as he once again paced beside the bench you were laying on, his eyes darting over to you every now and then to make sure that you were drinking the protein shake. "I told you, I was really tired yesterday and I just didn't realize today-" you said once more before taking another small sip.

You had ended up passing out accidentally while jogging, doing cardio on an empty stomach and with all the stress that you had obviously wasn't a good idea but it genuinely slipped your mind. You finally finished the protein shake, taking an extra second to make sure that you were feeling okay before sitting up.

Sova stopped pacing and took a step towards you, a hand going to your back to help you sit up without forcing your body too much, just trying to make sure you were generally okay. "Easy there..." He said quietly, letting out a small sigh and holding back any extra comments. "I'm okay, I'll just get myself something to eat and take it easy." You said as you were trying to slowly get up before getting pushed right back down by Sova.

"No, you stay there and I will get you something to eat. That protein shake was just to compensate." Sova said sternly, his tone leaving no place for argument. And anything that would have been used to talk back was immediately shut off-you already felt bad that you missed your morning training so you didn't want to make it worse by talking back.

And so that's how your afternoon ended up going. Practically getting babysat by one of the top snipers of the team because he thinks you're irresponsible now. Not only did he cook you food and make sure you drank enough water for the day, he also followed you around until you finally went back to your dorm. You were a bit embarrassed, understandably so.

But, if anyone asked, he didn't specify that he was following you around for that reason, no, he let you have your dignity and he said he was simply hanging out with you. You at least were thankful for that-even though part of you didn't understand why he bothered. You two weren't that close, even though he was very friendly you didn't really hang out much with him.

There was quite a few reasons-the main one being his intimidating factor. Sure, he was very friendly to the team, but he did have a bit of an intimidating exterior. Not only that, the first times you met him was during training, and he was quite rough on agents when training. So it was just an automatic response to assume he was intimidating.

Though it has been some time since you first got hired here and you did understand that he was friendly- it was just wired in your brain that he had some authority and you didn't really want to mess around with that.

"If you feeling unwell or you forget to eat again, you better tell me. I don't want this type of incident happening again." Sova said sternly as he opened the door to your dorm for you, moving aside to let you in your own humble abode. "Yes... And sorry again." You said a bit quietly, mainly due to embarrassment from it all.

"Stop apologizing, it was a genuine mistake and it's obvious you had a rough night. Just take time to rest. And like I said, if there's anything, just ask." Sova said, giving your shoulder a pat as you walked into your dorm. He started shutting the door behind you, speaking up one last time before fully closing the door. "Good night, (Y/n)." He said in a much more gentle tone, not in that firm and scolding one.

The moment you were alone in your room, you just went about your routine. Taking a quick shower, brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed. It felt a bit automatic, your head was overloaded and you were overworked. You were hoping that after some rest that things would start placing themselves a bit, and that hopefully you would stop stressing so much about the incident between you and omega-earth Iso.

#valorant #valorant fanfiction #valorant x reader #fem reader #iso #iso valorant #valorant iso #iso x reader

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