#IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN HATE -> IT WAS DESTINED

[syluss-karaoke-teacher]

Love and Deepspace - Nightly Rendezvous - Part IV, Sylus

And finally we complete the series with Sylus' card!! I admit, I kinda dreaded him bc alongside Raf he is my main and his card was so breathtakingly emotional, not to mention pretty much canonically their first time. Hope I was able to do it justice!

Word count: 2539 words

MDNI! Main text under the cut. You have been warned.

NOTE: This fic is only posted on tumblr and on AO3 under the pseud Yuli_Hunter. All other uploads on any other websites are non-authorized. I do not own any part of Love and Deepspace as an IP, but I do own this piece of fanfiction, and you are not allowed to repost it, copy it or otherwise claim it as your own.

That's it, enjoy! ❤️

Tags: reader!MC, fem!reader, PWP, fingering and oral (f!receiving), PIV, mentions of overstimulation, Sylus is king of consent, emotional sex, first time together, yes I make all of them eat MC out what are you going to do about it?

Not beta-read we die like Grandma

You point the gun at his chest with a victorious smirk.

“I won. Now for my prize, Mr. Crow.”

Sylus chuckles, the sound rumbling deep from his chest as he raises his hands in mock surrender. His crimson eyes reflect the crackling fire that illuminates the living room.

“Fair and square kitten. Ask away.”

The tension between you two is so thick you could almost grasp it with your hands. In many ways it is not unlike your first ever meeting. Back then you hated him, hated everything he represented. Then you thought you hated him, and then wished you hated him.

And now… Now you hate that you ever hated him.

You still don’t know why Sylus decided to meet you the way he did, but you aren’t naïve enough anymore to believe it’s solely because he is the boss of Onychinus. The discoveries you have made along your journey have made you painfully aware of just how incomplete your worldview was.

The man before you is a killer and a criminal, yes. But a monster he is not. After all he has shown that he is capable of changing and learning from his mistakes; if not for anything or anyone else, then at least for you.

That is why the famously impatient and easily bored man waits for you, his silver eyebrow arched in a silent question, not pushing or prompting. As he has done from the minute he heard you despised him.

Sylus has no problem embarrassing you: he enjoys seeing you squirm and blush, whether due to walking around in little more than a towel hanging precariously from his sinful hips, or due to the sudden tenderness that he slips into your everyday moments together. He doesn’t hide his gaze raking over your body as you try on a new designer dress he bought for you, and if you ask him directly he will tell you in no uncertain terms just how beautiful you are to him. Yet despite the intensity that oozed from his very being, he always stopped at just the right distance. If you so wanted, this night would end like your nights so far had always ended: in separate bedrooms, with you getting more frustrated each time.

Well, not anymore. If you wanted to play the part of a big, fearless hunter, you should be able to manage this much of an offensive.

“I’m getting tired, Sylus.” To emphasize your words, you fake a yawn and stretch.

Sylus lowers his hands and cocks his head to the side. “That doesn’t sound like a question, sweetie.”

You pointedly ignore his jab, place the gun on the table and lay your hands on his shoulders instead.

“Can you take me to bed?”

There’s a sharp flash in his eyes, and you watch as his whole being refocuses on you. His muscles tense ever so slightly, and you see his Adam’s apple bob before he answers you.

“I thought you wanted to know my destination for tomorrow.”

For an outsider that would be a perfectly normal question. But to you, the only one that Sylus has let this close, the quiet raspiness in his voice tells you everything you need to know; the great leader of Onychinus is in the palm of your hand.

You slide your fingers up the sides of his neck to cradle his face. The crackling of the fireplace isn’t quite enough to drown out the quickening of his breath as you lean in closer.

“I’d rather live in the present, so I won’t dwell on a situation beyond my control. So… will you?”

Sylus’ answer is an unsteady exhale before he tightens one broad arm around your waist. You loop your arms around his shoulders as he lifts you off the couch and starts walking towards the master bedroom. His hand on your thigh almost burns through the flimsy fabric of your loungewear set, and his other hand gently turns your head towards him as he passes through the dimly lit corridors. He doesn’t break your gaze for a second, not even as he settles you on the ground between the loveseat and the bed.

“If you want to go to sleep, you need to release me,” he murmurs, making no move to pull apart. You look up at him coyly and press your body against him. Your head barely comes up to his chin, and you can feel his heart thundering in his chest.

“What if I don’t want to let go of you?”

Sylus smirks, but you see that the corner of his mouth quivering. His hold on you tightens again and he turns you both around before nodding towards the loveseat.

“Then I can keep holding you until dawn,” he says and runs his hand up and down your spine. The heat in his gaze is unmistakable now, and yet he doesn’t act on it. The man who forced you to fire a bullet into his heart the first time you met would now rather rip that same heart out with his own bare hands rather than make you uncomfortable.

The sweet tenderness makes you ache, but right at this moment a feeling far more intense demands to be let loose.

You bring your hands to Sylus’ chest and push him onto the loveseat. He lets out a small, surprised huff as you climb onto his lap and cradle his head once more in your hands.

“Then hold me,” you whisper, only inches away from his lips, “until dawn and beyond.”

The small kiss is all it takes for the dam to break. Sylus moans into your mouth and winds his arm tightly behind your hips and his other hand behind your head, locking you in place as he takes the lead. Sylus’ kisses are all-consuming and feverish, with no room for hesitation. You had been confident that he would return your feelings, but the sheer intensity of his actions leaves you breathless.

When your lips are red and swollen he finally pulls away, only to press a line of kisses along your jaw and neck. His hands run along your hips and ass and pull you flush against him. You whine as you feel the outline of his hard cock against your clothed core. He rocks his hips experimentally against yours.

“Is this okay?” he asks as he kisses your earlobe, “you’ll tell me if you want me to stop, right kitten?”

You answer by kissing him deeply. For a moment he lets you grind against him, but then pulls you back and looks at you with seriousness you didn’t expect.

“I need you to say it: ‘I will tell Sylus to stop whenever I want to.’”

You study his face for a moment, and that tender aching in your chest simmers to life again.

“I will tell you to stop whenever I want to,” you echo back to him. “Now take me to bed.”

You gasp as strong hands grab your ass and lift you up as effortlessly as picking up a kitten by its scruff. Sylus’ lips latch onto your neck and the twinge of pain as he sucks on your skin sends a jolt of electricity down to your core.

Sylus sets you down on the bed. His massive frame blocks the ceiling light almost completely from view. It makes his eyes shine even brighter, and you feel your breath catching in your throat. You lift your fingers to gently trace the corner of the eye wherein his Aether core resides.

“Am I greedy if I say I want you to only look at me?”. Sylus isn’t using his power on you, but you can hear your innermost thoughts raging in your head, nonetheless. They form only one name, one target.

Sylus smiles. It isn’t teasing or arrogant as his usual smirks; your question seems to delight him.

“You have always had the right to demand it, kitten. Which means you can be even greedier now.”

He lifts up your hips and grinds your core against his. You whine as he rocks himself against your silk shorts, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the wetness that soils your panties underneath. The friction of the fabric against your clit makes your toes curl and you squeeze Sylus’ arm in response.

“Sylus…” you groan between kisses. The world around you grows hazy as your brain struggles to give orders to your body. You want everything from him, all at once, but the words die on your tongue and morph into moans and gasps instead.

Luckily there is an end to Sylus’ self-control after all. Just as you think you can’t take it anymore, he leans his forehead against yours and looks at you so reverently it forces your addled mind into focus once more.

“Do you want this?” he asks. This, meaning him, on you, inside you, tonight or for all eternity?

“Yes. All of it. All of you.”

A twinge of energy skitters along your skin as Sylus’ Evol surges from his fingertips. In seconds both of your clothes fall apart, covering the bed in black tatters. Before you can so much as squeak Sylus flips you over and settles you onto his chest. You gasp at the feeling of your bare pussy pressing against his firm chest. He spreads you wide open and strokes the skin of your thighs with his thumbs.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop once I get to taste you,” he says as his fingers slide closer to your center. “So I’m hoping your answer won’t change.”

You shake your head and let your eyes fall close as Sylus strokes your glistening folds with the calloused pads of his fingers. He stays away from your clit, making you whine from frustration. He chuckles and you slap his chest in retaliation.

“I need to hear what you need, sweetie,” he replies as he catches your hand and brings it his lips to kiss it. “Your pleasure is my pleasure. Whatever you want me to do, I will.”

He pushes your hand backwards past your hips. You blindly reach behind you and shudder as you feel his heavy cock resting against his abdomen. The slight touch makes him sigh and you watch as a beautiful flush rises on his cheeks as you gingerly stroke him.

“See how little it takes? Just the mere opportunity to be able to please you has made me this way. So believe me when I say this, kitten… You are allowed to ask anything of me.”

Your breathing struggles to flow as you take in his words. Your thighs tremble at his sides as you finally swallow your hesitation.

“Your mouth, Sylus… I want you to use your mou—”

The rest of the sentence is drowned in a pitiful wail as Sylus pulls you forward onto his face. You hastily brace yourself on the headboard as he pushes his tongue inside you. You can feel his nose bumping against your clit as he eats you out like a man starved. Instinctively you rock your hips against the divine, soft heat of his mouth. You feel him groan against you, his hands gripping you even tighter to block out any notion of pulling back from your position.

“Sylus, Sylus, oh god…” you whimper as you try to stay upright. You feel so incredibly wet it’s almost humiliating, but the relentless pressure makes you forget any rational thought as you fast approach a high you have never experienced before. You feel Sylus take his other hand from your hip and maneuver it under you, and before you can ask him if he needs a break you feel him slide his middle finger inside your pussy. He changes his position to focus more on your clit as he rubs you from the inside. The change in pace makes you howl.

“Please, please, oh god, feels so good Sylus, please, I’m—” you babble and grip the headboard with white knuckles. Stars swim into your vision as your body tenses to a breaking point. When Sylus pushes another finger in your mouth falls agape in a silent scream and you crash over the peak. The orgasm rolls over you like a tidal wave, and if it wasn’t for the strength of Sylus’ hands you would collapse entirely.

You feel like floating when Sylus lifts you up and flips you over onto your back. He wipes his glistening jaw with the back of his hand as he stares into your eyes with a hunger that hasn’t been satiated in the slightest. You let him manhandle you into spreading your legs for him, hands pressing your things apart and down, his cock dragging itself against your glistening pussy.

“More,” he whispers as he squeezes your thighs almost painfully. “Please, let me hear it. Tell me you want it too.”

You watch as his cockhead catches onto your entrance before sliding forward once more. You feel yourself clenching around nothing as you image him inside you, claiming you, filling you to the brim. You are still quivering from your high as you plead him to take you, all of you.

The moment you give him permission he takes it to heart again. He pushes inside you slowly, lets you adjust to his size, his broad chest heaving with the effort of holding back. His eyes are glazed over with both want and something soft, something you don’t dare yet name. His figure becomes unfocused as tears well up in your eyes from the almost painful fullness.

“Sylus, it’s too much,” you gasp, and he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Just breathe, almost there.”

By the time he has pressed himself in to the hilt of his cock your head is trashing against the pillows and your pussy is leaking around him in a desperate effort to ease the intrusion. Your mind grows hazy once more as he starts to rock into you, and you could swear you feel his cock nudging your goddamn throat at this point. Just as you think you can’t take much more you feel Sylus’ fingers rub tight circles on your clit.

“Let go sweetie. You can cum as many times as you want. We have the whole night after all.”

And with that he pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, his cock pushing straight against the sweet spot inside you. Your world goes white as you shatter around him.

This time he doesn’t stop. He fucks you like a man possessed, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you as you fight to stay coherent. Only your fourth one proves too much for him and he finally spills inside you with a long, shaking groan. Even then it’s merely a moment’s distraction. His cock doesn’t even soften inside you: instead, he fucks his seed deeper into you while shaking from overstimulation. You tell him with a failing voice that he too can stop if he wants to, but your only answer are blunt nails pressing crescent moon shapes into your hips as he carries you both deep into the night.

Tell me you want it.

I do, Sylus. I want it all.

[fancyfeathers]

Au where Damian cuts robin (nightengale) darling only for him to find out that (unknown to her) she is a demigod daughter of nyx (is she still Harvey's idk), who is furious cause that's her kid how dare you! (The myths say she's a real protective mother) Luckily for him nyx lost alot of power since the fall of her pantheon, enough for him to make it out alive.

Now does he give up like a sane rational person or does his resolve strengthen.

(Also does he tell his family his ass got beat by a long thought to be dead goddess)

Yandere!Batboys as Villains with Robin!Darlings AU Masterlist

Ya so while I can’t answer this ask as originally intended because of my rules, I can put a spin on this because I never did say who was her mother.

Say let’s make her mother a vigilante who based her persona off of Nyx. Having kept it a secret in her marriage to Harvey and the two having ending their marriage due to him becoming Two Face, not because she hated him. Then she trusted Bruce to look after her daughters while she continued to work as a vigilante, following a lead to another country.

Her oldest daughter, Jason’s darling knows what their mom is doing but for now Damian’s darling does not know, she was a good mom and she doesn’t want her job to ruin her youngest daughter’s perspective of her. So Damian’s darling thinks she is on a really long business trip because the company her works for needed someone to deal with trade with another company in a different country, that was all a lie, there was no company, just criminals and the vigilante targeting them.

Damian’s darling calls her mom every night after patrol at the same time, so when Bruce calls her nearly an hour later she knows something is wrong. Then when Bruce tells her what happened, a member of the League of Assassins targeted her daughter and carved something into her back, oh she is livid.

She decides to make a quick pit stop in her mission, deciding to pay a visit to a small rich town in Egypt where it appears to be somewhat of a travel destination but it hides a base for the League of Assassins. She goes under the guise of a tourist, walking the streets of the town to scope things out, and then she sees a young man who perfectly matches the description she was given. She accidentally bumps into Damian before continuing on, but she has been a vigilante longer than he’s been alive, she knows how to place a tracker without the best assassin noticing.

So then later that night she goes out in her gear, and when she finds him Damian almost looks innocent, perfectly calm and sitting in a garden, reading during the warm desert night. Even if he could swallow his pride and call for help none will come when she is throwing him to the ground, she already knocked out every single guard.

She will pin him to the ground, strangling him while screaming at him about what he has done, so it’s only fair… an eye for an eye.

While she has no idea he is Bruce’s son, she knows he hates the Batman, so she carves that symbol into his back before knocking him out cold.

Damian doesn’t even have to tell his own mother what will happen, she will drag his body to wherever Talia is and throw his bleeding and bruised body at her feet. Now I imagine Talia and her do not get along already, probably having bumped heads before, but even Talia has to acknowledge the truth when she is told…

“An eye for an eye… your son hurt my daughter so I did it in turn. He should not have done something of he couldn’t take it himself.”

Damian is enraged when he wakes up and hears Talia let her get away but he is quickly reminded he has other problems to deal with like having to tell his grandfather of his failure.

[merakilii]

Bound by the Tide / Pirate AU

Part one : Down She Goes other parts

pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x fem!reader

words: 4.7k

tags: Sword fighting. blood and gore AFAB reader. pirate captain Mactavish and reader. the British Navy, including CPT Price and LT Riley. rivals to lovers.

summary:  In the ruthless waters of the 18th-century British Isles, two pirate captains have played a dangerous game of cat and mouse for years. Captain John "Soap" Mactavish, the devil-may-care scourge of the seas, and you, a fiery, cunning rival who lost everything when the British Navy reduced your ship to splinters. But when Mactavish pulled you from the wreckage, saving a life you would've gladly let sink, the currents of your hatred shifted into uncharted waters.

The sea gives no quarter and trust is a currency too rare to spend.

The sea has always been your home, ever since you could stand tall enough to see over the gunwale. You've grown up with salt in your veins and the sound of crashing waves a melody in your ears. The rolling deck beneath your boots feels more like solid ground than any shore ever could. You built your name through blood and daring, carved it into the stories told in darkened taverns and over roaring campfires. The British Isles tremble when your flag appears on the horizon. You are no mere pirate; you are a storm.

But storms are not unchallenged. For every legend, there is another, waiting like a shadow. And for you, that shadow has always been Captain John "Soap" MacTavish.

He was a nightmare born of the brine, a devil with a wry grin that could charm a saint and a broadsword that could shatter a soul. A man who seemed as much a part of the sea as the waves themselves. You hated him. Despised him. But hating him was like hating the tide, inevitable, unyielding, and necessary for the world to feel right. Every time you crossed paths, it was as if the universe itself had decided the two of you were destined to clash. And clash you did.

You remember the humiliations, sharp as fresh cuts. The time you carefully plucked the map to the Isle of Wraiths from his camp under the cover of night, only for him to intercept you three days later on the high seas. He had stood on the deck of The Highland Flame, waving the stolen map like a trophy as his cannons shredded your sails. The day he threw you into the brig of that cursed ship was another wound that never quite healed. Shackled, humiliated, and yet, even then, he had found a way to needle at your pride.

"Run along now, hen," he had said, his voice dripping with mockery as he tossed you your weapons and let you walk free. "I'll be catchin' ye again soon enough."

But it wasn't all his victories. You'd left your mark on him too. The duel in Shelley still lingers in your memory, the clash of steel echoing against the humid night. Your blade had sliced through his sleeve and drawn blood, a shallow cut, but enough to wipe the smirk off his face, if only for a moment.

"Aye, ye're quick, but no' quick enough," he had grunted as he disarmed you, his grin returning even as his blood dripped onto the cobblestones.

The dance between you had gone on for years. Stealing treasure, reclaiming it, ambushing each other's ships. He had set fire to your sails once, and you had left him stranded on a barren island with nothing but a keg of rum and his wits. You should have hated him with every fibre of your being. And you did. But a part of you relished the battles, the chases, the constant push and pull. The sea would have been dull without him.

But then came the night the Navy ambushed you.

It was a clear evening, the stars glittering like shards of ice in the black sky. You were aboard The Black Siren, your trusted ship, the very heart of your power. Your crewmen and women who had bled for you, who had killed and stolen and triumphed at your side, were laughing and singing shanties as you plotted your next move.

The first cannonball hit like thunder. The deck trembled beneath your boots, and the night was torn asunder by shouts and screams. You ran to the helm, barking orders as the Navy's ships closed in, their white sails ghostly in the moonlight.

The fight was brutal. Your cannons roared in defiance, but their numbers were overwhelming. The air filled with smoke and the acrid stench of burning wood. You fought like a demon, cutting down boarding parties, rallying your crew, refusing to go down without a fight. But it wasn't enough.

The mainmast fell with a groan like a dying beast, and fire began to consume the ship. You remember the heat, the blinding light of the flames, and the bitter taste of failure. Your crew were falling around you. Some were cut down by musket fire, others drowned as they leapt overboard.

You were cornered on the burning deck, your sword slipping in your bloodied hand, when you heard it, a voice cutting through the chaos.

"I'll no' have ye dyin' just yet!"

You turned, and there he was. Captain Mactavish, the devil himself, standing amidst the smoke and fire like a spectre. His face was streaked with soot, his broadsword flashing as he cut down a Navy officer who dared stand in his way.

You remember the heat of his grip as he grabbed your arm and dragged you toward the edge of the ship. You fought him, of course, kicking, cursing, clawing, but he was relentless.

"Enough, woman!" he barked, hauling you over the side and into the cold embrace of the sea.

The shock of the water stole the air from your lungs. You remember the struggle to stay afloat, the taste of salt and smoke. But through it all, you felt his iron grip on your arm, his voice anchoring you to consciousness.

"I've got ye. Ye're no' slippin' away from me that easy."

He pulled you onto a waiting rowboat, his men helping to drag you aboard. You lay there, shivering, half-dead, as The Black Siren sank beneath the waves. And Mactavish? He stood above you, grinning as if he hadn't just saved your life.

"Ye're welcome," he said, his Scottish brogue thick and maddening. "A bonnie lass like you should no' be wastin' herself at the bottom of the sea."

Your hate burned brighter than the fires that had consumed your ship. You couldn't think about that for too long though, not when your eyelids drooped and your body went limp

Then, the first thing you notice is the sound of creaking wood. It's steady, rhythmic, almost soothing, if not for the sharp ache in your wrists and the taste of dried salt on your lips. You blink against the dim light filtering through a high porthole, and reality slams into you like a cannonball.

You're on a ship. Not your ship.

Your arms are bound behind you, rough ropes biting into your skin, and your legs are tied at the ankles. The cabin you're in is small, utilitarian. A desk is bolted to the floor, cluttered with maps, compasses, and, of course, a bottle of rum. You know exactly whose ship you're on.

"Awake, are ye?"

His voice is like gravel dipped in honey, and it makes your stomach twist. You glare toward the captain looking entirely too smug for a man who should have been gutted years ago.

"Untie me," you hiss, your voice hoarse but filled with venom.

Soap leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, his broadsword hanging lazily at his side. His grin is infuriatingly wide, and that damn lilt of his makes every word feel like a mockery.

"Untie ye?" he repeats, feigning innocence. "Now why would I do that? Ye'd be at my throat quicker than a shark at a blood trail."

"You saved me just to tie me up? You're as daft as you are insufferable."

He chuckles, pushing off the doorframe and stepping closer, his boots thudding against the wooden floor. "Ach, it's no' just for fun. Though I'll admit, ye do look bonnie all tied up like that." His grin deepens as your glare sharpens.

"If you think I'm going to thank you—"

"Oh, I ken better than that," he cuts in smoothly. "But ye do owe me, lass. That's the thing about savin' someone's life, aye? It comes wi' strings."

You lurch forward despite the bindings, teeth bared. "I owe you nothing! You saved me for your own bloody fun, and now you think you can—"

He crouches in front of you, close enough that you can see the faint scar running along his chin, a mark you'd given him, long ago. The warmth of his presence is maddening, his scent a mix of salt, leather, and the faintest hint of smoke.

"Aye, I saved ye," he says softly, his voice suddenly serious. "Ye were sinkin' wi' the Siren. Fire and sea were closin' in, and yer crew... well." His gaze flickers, just for a moment, to something like sympathy. It's gone just as fast. "I could've let ye go. Left ye to yer fate. But I didn't."

You swallow hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. The memory of the fire, the screams, the icy embrace of the sea, it all rushes back, and for a moment, you can't speak.

"So now, we've got a bargain to make."

You narrow your eyes, your voice cold. "A bargain."

"Aye." He stands, towering over you, his hands resting on his belt. "Ye've been chasin' that treasure as long as I have. We both ken it's out there, waitin'. Ye want it, and I want it. But ye've got somethin' I need."

"And what's that?" you hiss.

"Yer wit. Yer cunning. And yer stubborn arse." He laughs. "Ye've always been a step ahead o' me. I'll admit it. Ye're sharp. But this treasure? It's no' somethin' I can chase alone. And now, well..." He gestures to your bound form. "Ye're in no position to argue."

Your jaw clenches, heat rising to your face. "So that's it? You think I'll just agree to this madness?"

Soap's expression softens, just a fraction, and he leans down again, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Ye've lost everythin', lass. Yer ship. Yer crew. And aye, I know what that feels like. It's a pain that doesn't go away. But gold? Gold can start ye over. Gold can give ye a chance to rebuild. I'm offerin' ye that chance."

His words hang in the air, heavy and tempting. You don't trust him. You can't trust him. And yet...

You tilt your head, a scowl twisting your lips. "You're awfully bold for a man who knows I'd slit his throat the moment these ropes are off."

"Oh, I ken that well enough," he says with a smirk. "But I also ken ye're smart. Smart enough to see that this bargain o' mine? It's the only way forward for ye now."

You stare at him, heart pounding with fury and frustration. You do need that treasure. But the idea of working with him, of owing him, makes your skin crawl.

Finally, you sigh, the sound laced with resentment. "Fine. But don't think for a second this means I trust you."

Soap grins, standing tall and offering a mock bow. "I wouldn't dream of it. Now, let's get ye untied. Wouldn't want ye thinkin' I enjoy keepin' ye like this...much."

You grit your teeth as he moves to cut the ropes, his touch annoyingly gentle. The moment you're free, you push past him, your shoulder brushing his chest as you rise to your feet.

"This doesn't make us allies," you snarl, glaring at him.

"I'd expect nothin' less."

You've been on countless ships, from the grandest galleons to the most ramshackle sloops, but none of them feel as foreign as this one. The Highland Flame. Every inch of it reeks of him, of Captain Mactavish. It's in the creak of the timbers, the whip of the sails, the bellowing laughter of the crew. No matter where you turn, you can't escape the man or his presence, and it grates on you like a blade scraping bone.

The first day aboard is hell.

You wake to the sound of hammers and boots on deck. The ship rocks beneath you, not violently, but enough to remind you that you are no longer captain of your own fate. The hammock they've thrown you into is small and scratchy, shoved into the corner of a cramped cabin below deck. It's a far cry from your own cabin on The Black Siren, a space that had been yours, filled with maps you'd marked, treasures you'd claimed, and a bed large enough to sprawl in after a hard day's plundering.

Here, you're an unwelcome guest, and the crew makes no effort to hide it.

You rise with a groan, your muscles aching from the battle, the fire, and the hard knot of rope that had bound you. As you make your way to the deck, you can feel their eyes on you, whispers following in your wake like shadows. You've earned your reputation, and it precedes you even here. They know you're dangerous. They know you're proud. And now, they know you're vulnerable.

"There she is," Mactavish calls out, loud enough for the entire crew to hear. He's leaning against the mainmast, arms crossed, his smirk already firmly in place. "Thought ye'd sleep the day away. Ye've missed breakfast, but I'll no' hold it against ye."

You glare at him, but you don't take the bait. Not this early in the morning. "I wasn't aware I was a guest of honour," you mutter, brushing past him.

"Oh, aye," he replies, falling into step beside you. "Ye're the talk o' the ship, ye ken? A legend among pirates, slinkin' about on my deck. I've half a mind to charge the lads admission."

You stop short, turning to face him with a sharpness that makes his grin widen. "Don't mistake this for charity, Mactavish. You didn't save me, you made an investment. And when it doesn't pay off, don't come crying to me."

He tilts his head, his icy eyes studying you. "Oh, I've no doubt ye'll pay me back. One way or another."

His words hang between you, but you break eye contact first, brushing past him with a huff.

The days crawl by, and the ship feels smaller with every passing hour. You find yourself stuck in a strange limbo, neither prisoner nor crew. The Highland Flame is a well-run vessel, you'll give it that. The crew is disciplined, the sails trimmed to perfection, the cannons cleaned and ready for action. It's a ship built for war, and that much you can respect. But you're not here by choice, and the bitterness of that fact taints everything.

You keep to yourself as much as possible, though it's a task easier said than done. Soap seems to delight in cornering you at every opportunity.

On the second day, you're inspecting the ship's charts in the navigation room, what you'd give to find even a scrap of useful information about the treasure you're after, when he saunters in, arms full of supplies.

"Ye've taken a fancy to my maps, have ye?" he says, setting the supplies down with a thud.

"Just making sure you don't steer us into a reef," you reply without looking up.

He chuckles, stepping closer until his presence looms over your shoulder. "Ye think little of me, lass. But don't worry. This ship's seen more action than ye have, and she's still in one piece."

You turn to face him, your jaw tight. "Unlike my ship, you mean."

His grin falters, just for a moment. "The Siren was a fine vessel," he says, his tone softer than you expected. "No man o' mine would wish her end on anyone."

You hate the flicker of sympathy in his voice, hate the way it reminds you of all you've lost. "Save your pity, Mactavish. I'll rebuild. With or without you."

Eventually, you've started to find a grudging routine here, though every part of your being resists it. The ship, for all its strength and order, is not your ship. The sway of its decks feels foreign beneath your boots, the smell of the wood and canvas unfamiliar. You hate how wrong it feels, how each creak of the timbers reminds you of what you've lost.

The crew still keeps their distance. Some throw you wary glances, their eyes filled with suspicion, others with outright hostility. A few whisper when they think you can't hear, hushed conversations that stop abruptly whenever you enter a room. You've heard enough snatches to know the gist. They don't trust you. And why would they? You're not one of them. You're an outsider, a rival. A pirate captain without a ship.

But you don't care about their trust. You've always stood alone, even among your own crew. What you can't stand is the stifling inactivity. So, you keep your hands busy, forcing yourself to haul rope, scrub decks, patch sails, tasks you haven't needed to do yourself in years. You don't do it out of obligation to Mactavish or his men, but because the alternative, being idle, means letting your mind wander to places you'd rather not go.

It's better this way. The blisters on your hands, the ache in your arms, they're distractions, and right now, distractions are your lifeline.

And then there's Mactavish.

Of course, there's Mactavish.

It's as if the man has made it his personal mission to invade every moment of your damn day. He's always there, always watching, always with that damn smirk plastered across his face.

The first time he finds you repairing a torn sail, you're halfway up the mast, needle in hand, cursing under your breath at the stubborn tear in the canvas. "Ye're holdin' it wrong," comes his voice, startling you so badly you nearly drop the needle.

You glare down at him. He's standing on the deck below, one hand resting lazily on his sword hilt, the other shielding his eyes from the sun as he looks up at you. "I wasn't aware you were an expert seamstress," you snap.

"In another life, I'd be sittin' in a wee shop somewhere, stitchin' bonnets fer fine ladies. But since I'm here, I reckon I could show ye a thing or two."

"Go bother someone else," you mutter, but his laughter follows you as you turn back to your work, your jaw clenched so tightly it aches.

Then there's the time you're scrubbing the deck. It's late afternoon, and the sun beats down relentlessly, making the task even more miserable. You're focused on the stubborn grime beneath your brush when his shadow falls across you.

"You missed a spot," he says, his tone infuriatingly casual.

You look up, sweat dripping down your face. He's leaning against the rail, arms crossed. "Don't you have a ship to captain?"

"I do," he says, nodding solemnly. "But watchin' ye work is far more entertainin'. I think the crew might even start takin' bets on how long it takes ye to snap."

You throw the brush down with a growl, rising to your feet. "If you don't leave me alone, I'll give them a show they'll never forget."

"I've no doubt, lass," he says with a wink before sauntering off, leaving you seething.

Even in the galley, he finds you. You've just sat down with a bowl of stew, simple, hearty fare that tastes like ash in your mouth, when he slides onto the bench across from you. The table suddenly feels too small, his presence overwhelming.

"You've got no one else to annoy?" you ask without looking up.

He chuckles, stealing a piece of bread from the tray in front of you. "I'd wager there's no one on this ship more fun to annoy than ye."

"I could stab you," you mutter.

"And ye'd be within yer rights," he replies cheerfully, biting into the bread. "But where's the sport in that?"

You're ready to throw yourself overboard just to escape him. But for all his teasing, for all the ways he needles at your pride and stirs your temper, there are moments, maddening, fleeting moments, when you catch glimpses of something else beneath the surface. Something quieter. Something that doesn't fit the insufferable version of Captain John Mactavish you've come to loathe.

You tell yourself not to notice, not to let it linger. But it's there, slipping through the cracks of your carefully built walls, and it's impossible to ignore.

Like when he laughs with his crew, his voice booming across the deck like thunder rolling over the waves. It's a rich, unrestrained sound that cuts through the monotony of the day, drawing attention without effort. There's a warmth to it that spreads like fire, lighting up the faces of the men around him. You watch from the shadows as they laugh with him, their shoulders loosening, their postures relaxing as if his presence alone lifts the waves of the sea from them.

It's not forced or commanding, it's effortless, magnetic. He doesn't demand loyalty; he earns it with every word, every gesture. You see the way his men look at him, not with the wary respect born of fear, but with genuine trust, even admiration. It's not the same kind you had with your crew. The thought stings like a fresh wound, raw and aching, and you hate yourself for feeling it.

You hate that you can't look away.

One afternoon, you're lingering near the mast when you spot him in the middle of the deck, surrounded by laughter. A wiry young sailor with a scar slicing across her cheek fumbles with a length of rope, trying and failing to coil it properly. The others jeer, their teasing sharp, the kind that can quickly turn cruel if left unchecked.

Before it does, Soap steps in. "Ach, leave the lassie be," he says, his grin softening into something more genuine. He kneels, taking the rope from the girl's hands and demonstrating the proper technique. "Here, like this. Ye've got to keep it tight, see? Let it slip through yer fingers, an' it'll tangle ye worse than a lovesick lad."

The girl grins nervously, her cheeks flushing as Soap hands the rope back to him. The others laugh, but now the sound is good-natured, their ribbing tempered by their captain's intervention. The girl tries again, her movements more confident this time, and when she succeeds, Soap claps her on the back. "There ye go. Knew ye had it in ye."

It's a small thing, that most would overlook. But you don't. You see the way the girl stands a little taller, the way the others ease off their teasing. It's nothing like the man who spends his days poking and prodding at you, and it lingers in your mind longer than you'd like.

And then there are the nights.

The quiet hours, when the crew has retired to their quarters and the ship sways beneath a sky full of stars, are the most dangerous. Not because of the sea or the weather, but because of him.

It's always the same. You climb to the deck for a moment of solitude, hoping to breathe in the salt air and quiet your restless thoughts, only to find him there. Standing at the helm, his silhouette outlined by moonlight. Always alone, always silent.

You tell yourself to turn away, to leave him to his thoughts. But you don't.

There's something about the way he stands, shoulders squared but not tense, hands resting lightly on the wheel, that draws your gaze against your will. It's a stillness that doesn't fit the brash, arrogant captain who seems to delight in needling at your temper.

One night, you catch yourself staring too long. The pale light of the moon softens his features, stripping away the sharp edges of his grin. His eyes, blue as the deepest parts of the sea, are fixed on the horizon, his expression distant, as if he's searching for something just beyond the edge of the world.

He doesn't see you lurking in the shadows, and you wonder what thoughts run through his mind. Is he plotting his next scheme? Thinking of the treasure you both chase? Or is he remembering something, or someone, lost?

The curiosity gnaws at you, maddening and relentless. You don't want to wonder about him, don't want to see anything beyond the insufferable man who's taken everything from you and had the gall to save your life in the same breath.

But you do.

And it's not just the curiosity. It's the way the light catches his face, the way his hair falls just so. There's a pull to him, something magnetic that makes your pulse quicken against your will. You clench your fists, angry at him, at yourself, at the damned sea for trapping you here.

Once, during the day, you catch him perched high on the mast, repairing a tear in the rigging himself.

It's not his job, he has a dozen men who could do it for him, all capable hands with no shortage of skill, but there he is anyway. Perched like a crow on the crossbeam, the sunlight catching the dark strands of his hair and the sharp curve of his jaw. His movements are precise, practised, his hands deft as they loop the rope and secure the knot. It's clear he's done this a hundred times before, maybe more.

You're watching before you realize it, your steps slowing as your eyes track his movements. You hate how the sight holds you, how your gaze lingers on the roll of his shoulders as he shifts to test the knot, his grip firm and steady.

"Ye've got a habit of lurkin'."

His voice startles you, cutting clean through your thoughts. It's rich with that brogue, the tone laced with amusement as if he's caught you red-handed.

You cross your arms, tilting your chin up and refusing to let him see that he's rattled you. "You've got a habit of doing everyone else's work," you counter, your voice sharper than you mean it to be.

He chuckles, low and warm, as he finishes tying off the knot. "A captain who cannae do the work himself has no right askin' it of his crew," he says simply.

He slides down the rigging with ease, his boots hitting the deck with a solid thud. Straightening, he brushes his hands off on his breeches.

The simplicity of his statement throws you. It's not a boast, not a barb, just a quiet truth he carries with him, and it lands heavier than you'd like.

You narrow your eyes. "You don't strike me as the selfless type," you mutter, a jab born of irritation and something else, something you're not ready to name.

The grin that spreads across his face is slow, like he's savouring the words before speaking them. He steps closer, and the space between you feels suddenly too small.

"I'm no' selfless," he says, his voice dipping lower, rougher. "But even a devil's got his principles."

The way he says it makes your breath catch, just for a second. His words aren't just a defence, they're an invitation, a challenge. His grin lingers, the corners of his mouth tugging upward as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

You scoff, stepping back to put distance between you, but your retreat feels too quick. You can't stand the way your pulse quickens when he looks at you like that, like he's stripping you bare with nothing more than a glance.

"Principles," you say, forcing your voice to remain steady. "That's rich coming from the man who stole half my cargo last winter."

His laughter rumbles out of him. "Well, I never said my principles were the noble sort."

He shifts, leaning casually against the mast, but there's nothing casual about the way his gaze flickers over you. It's not lecherous, no, it's dangerous. He's studying you, testing you.

"You've got a sharp tongue," he says after a moment. "Sharper than yer blade, I'd wager."

You glare at him, loathing the way his words settle low in your stomach, hot and unwelcome. "And you've got a bigger mouth than sense."

His grin widens, his teeth flashing like a predator catching the scent of prey. "Ye like it."

The words hang in the air, bold and brash, and your fists clench at your sides. You don't answer, can't answer, because the heat rising in your cheeks betrays you.

Instead, you turn on your heel, your boots striking the deck harder than necessary as you stalk away. You hear his laugh behind you, warm and victorious, and it burns.

But later, long after the moment has passed and you're alone in the quiet of your corner below deck, his words come back to you.

"A captain who cannae do the work himself has no right askin' it of his crew."

You tell yourself it's nothing. Just another quip, another ploy to needle at you. But it stays with you, threading itself into the fabric of your thoughts.

And it's not just the words. It's the way he'd looked at you. And for a moment, just a moment, you wonder what he saw.

You shake the thought away, refusing to let it take root. He's a bastard, a thief, and the source of everything that's gone wrong in your life.

[hellfireloserclub]

Bottoms up

written for the feb pop up challenge @steddieholidaydrabbles

and to challenge myself to write this in two hours

Prompt: love

rated G

Tags : alcohol, dumbass for dumbass, fluff

It had seemed like such a good idea. A road trip to visit Robin on campus, a few days away from the boring day-to-day grind that had become the everyday norm back in Hawkins. Steve had to admit, it had been one of Eddie's better ideas right until it wasn’t anymore. He had been feeling on top of the world as the three of them had danced around Robin's dorm room earlier. Finally he felt like he had regrown a missing limb, part of him had been drowning and had come up for air for the first time in forever. Bottoms up, was very much the stuff of Robin's wildest dreams. They had barely made it through the door when Robin had been pulled away by one of her classmates, leaving Eddie and Steve to work out where the bar was and try to negotiate their way through the throng of sweaty dancing bodies that swayed under the disco lights.

Of course they had descended on the one weekend Robin was caught up doing things with her pride group, not that Steve minded, but he had kind of hoped that they could have spent the weekend doing things together, not sharing their well-earned quality time with strangers. As it stood he had spent most of his time with Eddie, something he could have done without driving across state. He had spent last night asleep next to Eddie on the mattress in the back of the van. Trying his hardest to not question the suspicious stains on both the mattress and the sleeping bag that Eddie had hastily thrown over them both to stave off the cold. Steve couldn’t say he minded that much when he woke up with a mouth full of Eddie’s untamable mane and his body starfished on top of him. He told himself it was because he was missing Robin, and Eddie wasn’t a replacement, just a place for that desperate need for closeness he craved to find refuge. He doubted anyone would believe him though.

Sure they could have forked out for a motel, but Eddie had pleaded his case, saying it would be like camping… and hadn't Steve promised him he would take him camping? Steve had a feeling that it was more to avoid the strange looks that the two of them had to endure whenever they tried to book a room. Eddie always used the excuse that Seve looked like he was turning tricks when you stood him next to a fucked up mess like himself.

Steve hated it when Eddie talked about himself like that, especially when right now most of the eyes that were looking their way were very much not looking at Steve. Two drinks down and on to the third and Steve was regretting the way the night had turned. A dark cloud had descended over him, and he couldn’t put his finger on why? Sure he had Robin back at his side, he should be happy, but right now all he could think about was Eddie. Eddie who had finally caved when the seventh incredibly handsome guy of the night had asked him to dance. Despite appearances, Eddie could dance when he wanted, drunk or stoned and bopping around Steve’s front room to many cheesy or heavy rock songs. Swaying Steve in his arms like he was some damsel that Eddie was destined to sweep off her feet. Now in the strobing lights and under the disco ball, here in a gay club miles away from anyone who knew them, Eddie seemed to have found a shining knight to sweep off his feet instead. Steve’s drink soured in his mouth, as his thoughts record scratched to a clattering halt. He should be the one that Eddie was wooing, he should be the one that Eddie was dancing with all eyes on them. He would call himself stupid, but Eddie had told him he wasn’t allowed to do that anymore, not on his watch. How had he not realised that he was in love with Eddie before now?

Robin grinned as Steve pushed his drink into her hand, “Oh! Is it time?” Robin asked, “Did you finally?” she nodded towards Eddie, “I was starting to think I was going to have to spell it out to you” she pushed him on his way “Go get em tiger.”

Eddie caught his eye as he joined the dancefloor, his eyebrow raising in a question as he looked over his Knights shoulder. He must have read something in Steve’s expression because he dropped his hands from the dashing man’s waist and excused himself to make his way to Steve. Ignoring the fallen noblemans irritated calls as he tried to follow him.

“Something wrong?” Eddie asked leaning in to make himself heard over the pounding sound of the speakers. Like a magnet Steve’s hand’s moved to Eddie’s waist, a possessiveness he hadn’t realised he had until he saw an active threat making him stake his claim.

“Not anymore.” he let his lips ghost across Eddie’s ear as he lent in to speak. He felt Eddie shiver under his touch, face turning to look at him properly.

“Yeah why’s that?”

“Saved something stupidly important that I love from falling through my fingers like a dumbass.” Steve said, sweeping one hand up Eddie’s side and twisting it into his hair. Eddie’s eyes sparkled but not as much as his smile.

“No calling yourself a dumbass either, unless that someone you love isn’t me then you can just go ahead and-” Steve didn’t give him a chance to finish. He had his own prince sweep off his feet, starting with a kiss, and hopefully an upgrade from the back of the van to a hotel on the way back to Hawkins.

[yume-fanfare]

the change from daikirai na hazudatta -> unmei no hito datta is making me lose it

[the-kipsabian]

i will blow up the us mail service if the bracelets i sent three weeks ago arent delivered this week

[anqelrafe]

LATE NIGHT DRIVES

PAIRING: BSF!RAFE X SWEETHEART!FEM!READER

summary: Rafe cherished these drives with you. Where you both would blare your wildly different music, talk about anything that came to mind, and stop at random convenience stores for snacks. It was the only time where he felt genuinely relaxed and content.

a/n: okayy new setup? 🫣 I dunno, I'm trying it out but I likee. very professional, very cutesy. Anyway, this is my first well thought out writing so please do leave constructive criticism if you think I could do something different next time...

word count: 0.6k

The route to your house was second nature by now. He's been there so much that he almost knows it better than his own home. which he doesn't mind at all, cause your house was basically his second home.

As you lie in your bed, your phone buzzes with an "I'm outside" text from Rafe. So per routine, you get up, throwing on the first hoodie in reach and heading out of the door.

He blows out out a breath, letting out a low "Its about fucking time" as you get in his truck.

"yeah yeah, it wasn't that long. you're just impatient"

he pulls out of your driveway, scoffing slightly "I must have plenty of patience, I deal with you, don't I? and put your seat belt on."

Once your seat belt is fastened, he begins driving on the road, having no destination in mind like usual. For a while, it's just silence between you two. Which isn't uncommon for both of you, it's familiar and more comforting than he'd like to admit.

"Lets stop at a gas station for snacks" you request, looking out the window

He nods, a murmured "sure" leaving his lips as he drives in the direction of the nearest gas station.

Entering the gas station, you immediately make your way toward the section with candy, picking out packages of a variety of candies while he heads towards the chips.

Once you both have gathered a good amount of snacks for each of you, which you both are gonna end up sharing anyway, you set them down on the counter as the cashier to rings up all of the items that he ends up paying for like usual since he'll throw a fit if he doesn't.

When you both make it into the car, he drives to the usual spot you both spend nights at. An empty parking lot. "Oh my gosh, turn it up!" you motion to the radio, smiling widely.

He groans as he turns up the radio "What the hell is this? Taylor Swift?"

"Sabrina Carpenter" you correct "And it's good, just listen."

"Yeah, I'd rather not" he replies as he takes a few gummy bears from the bag in your lap. He always claims to hate your music taste but you always find him humming a beat to one of the songs you pick out during a drive.

He leans back into his seat, chewing slowly as he listens to the lyrics. "You listen to some dirty music" he chuckles

"Hey, she's not that bad. You should see her on tour though, you'll have a stroke."

he raises his eyebrow, an amused expression on his face "really, huh? what, are you gonna go?"

you hum, shaking your head "No. I want to, though. But her tickets are kinda pricey. Maybe if I have extra money to spend soon."

"I'll take you."

The Skittles you were eating nearly get stuck in your throat as you look at him in bewilderment "What?! No! Rafe, that's too much money."

he shrugs "It's fine. I wanna do it. Just let me? Please?" of course he wouldn't bat an eye at spending that much money, he was loaded.

you hesitate for a moment, but seeing the insistence in his eyes, you eventually nod slightly "Fine. You can take me. But I'm paying you back eventually, alright?"

"Mm okay, sure. Deal." he agrees, even though he knows when it comes time for you to pay him back, he'll either give the money right back to you or refuse it.

"Thank you, Rafe. I appreciate it." you smile, genuinely touched by his willingness to spend that much money on you. It was rare that he went out of his way to please someone.

"Mhm, of course" he smiles back before throwing a gummy bear your way "consider it a late birthday gift."

"my birthday was like nine months ago, but okay."

"Mm yeah, just go with it" he chuckles, reaching over and talking your hand.

That was definitely new...

[flowersforbucky]

sweetener

bucky barnes x reader

summary: when the vacation that you've been planning for months gets canceled due to a last minute mission, you can't help but feel bummed - the bright side is that you're being sent on a mission with bucky.

word count: 5.3k - my masterlist

warnings/tags: canon level violence, descriptions of injuries, mention of blood, almost drowning, hospital setting, bad guys getting killed (not descriptive), non-sexual nudity, hurt/comfort trope, avenger!reader, friends to lovers, fluff, language, reader pov, no use of y/n, fem reader, bucky being super soft, not explicit but mdni please

when life deals us cards

make everything taste like it is salt

then you come through like the sweetener you are

to bring the bitter taste to a halt

Hand warmers. Flashlight and extra batteries. Can opener. Matches. First aid kit –

You glance down the handwritten list for the dozenth time that morning, checking and rechecking that you aren't forgetting anything obvious.

Your eyes flicker between the ridiculous amount of supplies scattered across your bed and the three large duffle bags on your floor that you're determined to pack it all into. You know that you are most likely being excessive, but you'd much rather be too thorough than not thorough enough when you're about to be miles deep in the Appalachian wilderness.

Sure, you'd be staying at a relatively civilized campground with restrooms and showers, but this is the first time that you've been camping in years, and your first time ever going camping alone.

A two day road trip there, then six days in the Great Smoky Mountains, and then another two day road trip back to upstate New York.

A much needed ten days of time spent by yourself, seeing as how you haven't gone on anything resembling a vacation in over two years. The last couple years have been nonstop work with very little time for relaxation.

To say that you're excited would be an understatement. Although you find immense fulfillment in the work that you do with the Avengers and can't see yourself doing anything else, you're ready to sit by a warm fire and sleep under the stars without a care in the world.

Just as you've finished packing the second bag and are about to begin on the third, the Bluetooth speaker that your cell phone is paired to begins blasting your ringtone, cutting off the music that you'd been listening to while you pack.

When you grab the phone off of your nightstand and see the name Nick Fury displayed across the screen, a ball of unease immediately forms in the pit of your stomach.

Nick Fury isn't the type to call and chit chat about how your day is going or what shows you've been binge watching. He's the type to call when he wants something done, and wants it done now.

“Hey, Fury,” you greet in a neutral tone as you perch on the edge of your bed. With the phone still connected to your speaker, you place it back down on the nightstand so that you are free to wring your hands together.

“Agent,” Fury's voice booms throughout your room. “I hope I've caught you before you've left the state of New York.”

Godfuckingdammit.

“Uh - yep. I'm still here. Packing up for my trip right now,” you answer, trying your hardest to conceal the irritation in your voice. There's a small voice in the back of your head telling you that you should just lie and say you are already on the road, but you're not stupid enough to lie to Nick Fury.

There's a second, louder voice in the back of your mind screaming at you that you shouldn’t have even answered the phone.

“You know I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm going to suggest you pack a tactical suit and weapon of choice instead of hiking boots and a sleeping bag. We just got word that a vibranium weapons dealer we've been tracking will be receiving a large shipment at a port in Destin tomorrow night. Need you and Barnes on a flight to Florida this afternoon.”

���Florida?” you repeat, unable to hide the shock and disappointment in your tone. “I can't go to Florida right now. I've been planning this trip for months. I put in the notice for my leave–”

“I realize that this is unfortunate timing but I'm afraid that this is non-negotiable, Agent,” he interrupts you in a tone of finality. “If we don't intercept this shipment then these weapons fall into very dangerous hands. With Romanoff and Rogers still in San Antonio until next week, I have no choice but to ask you and Barnes to handle it.”

You exhale an audible, frustrated breath and massage the heels of your palms into your eye sockets. You don't know why you're surprised. It's not like illegal arms dealers take your vacation time into consideration when they plot their dealings.

“Is that understood, Agent?” he asks when you don't respond.

“Yes,” you say as you dig your nails into the flesh of your palm to hold back any further argument. “Yes, I understand.”

“Great. The jet leaves in three hours.”

The line cuts off before you can get another word out.

You groan out loud. Three hours. That doesn't even leave you enough time to feel sorry for yourself.

You look around at the chaotic state of your room before your gaze lands on the already packed duffle bags filled with camping supplies.

You're too annoyed and short on time to care right now, so you empty the contents of both bags back onto your bed and tell yourself that you'll deal with the mess when you get back home. For now, you need to focus on packing the appropriate items for taking down a vibranium arms dealer in hotass Florida.

Beneath all of the disappointment and frustration, there's a glimmer of relief that at the very least it's Bucky who you're being sent on this unexpected mission with. You may not be fond of hot weather, but you are quite fond of him.

••••••

Just as Fury said, the jet departs from the compound at exactly three o'clock. You sit in the aircraft's cabin, reading through a thick file containing all of the information that SHIELD has compiled on Dmitri Petrov's crime empire, ranging from drug smuggling to illegal arms deals.

You are only a few pages into the report and it's abundantly clear why this mission was non-negotiable. Petrov has been getting away unscatched for years - tomorrow night will be the first clear opportunity for a take down since getting on SHIELD's radar.

“Coffee?” A voice snaps you back to reality, making you realize that you're reading the same sentence for the dozenth time. “Three creams, two sugars.”

You look up to find a vibranium hand holding out a disposable cup to you. If the fact that he's committed the way you take your coffee to memory isn't enough to increase your heart rate, his smirk and the crinkles around his blue eyes do the trick.

“Thank you,” you tell him, snapping the folder shut on the table in front of you. “My eyes are on the verge of bleeding.” You take a sip of the coffee - indeed, three creams and two sugars.

He takes the seat directly across from you, spinning the folder around for him to flip through himself.

“We land in less than half an hour and you've been reading this the entire flight,” he says teasingly as he thumbs through the pages. “I think it's safe to say you're prepared.”

He places the file back down, returning his attention to you.

“Just trying to get myself in the right headspace. I didn't know anything about this operation until a few hours ago, you know.”

Not one to complain, you had yet to bring up the fact that your trip had been postponed in order for you to be here. You had talked about the trip on several occasions with Bucky, but you didn't expect him to remember the exact dates that you were supposed to be gone.

Sure - if he was going to be away for over a week, you'd be hyper aware of it until he returned - but you weren't naive enough to think that he would know the exact dates of your comings and goings.

“I know,” he sighs, a sympathetic look on his face. “I was on my way to tell you to have a good trip and to be safe when I got the call from Fury this morning.”

Oh. Your cheeks heat at the casual admission from him.

“I'm sorry about your trip. I know you were really looking forward to it,” he adds sincerely. “I'm going to find extra enjoyment in putting Dmitri Petrov behind bars for causing it to get canceled.”

“You and me both,” you chuckle. “Really though, it's okay. I was bummed, but it's not the end of the world. It can easily be rescheduled once this guy is locked up and we're back home.”

You don't add the fact that you find yourself caring less and less about the canceled trip the longer that you sit here with him.

“There is at least one silver lining to this, you know,” he chimes, leaning forward with his elbows on the table between you. You instinctively lean in closer too, causing the side of your leg to brush against his beneath the table. You wait to see if he'll pull away, and when he doesn't, you leave the side of your thigh resting against his.

“Oh, yeah? And what's that?”

“Petrov’s shipment isn't set to arrive until tomorrow night, and they've sent us down here the day prior. It's not like we have to stay holed up in our hotel room for the next twenty-four hours, right?”

••••••

Bucky's right - there's no sense in locking yourselves inside the hotel room until the time of the weapons deal tomorrow evening, but when you see the hotel room that you'll be spending the next couple nights in, you think you would also be okay with staying inside if you had to.

It's not a five star resort by any means, but in comparison to the dingy roadside motels that you're normally stuck in for missions? This place might as well be a Four Seasons.

It's relatively small, but there's more than enough space for the two of you. There's one full size bed, plus a couch that converts to a futon mattress - the latter of which Bucky insists on taking, giving you the bed. The bathroom is nearly as big as the main room, with a jacuzzi tub that's bigger than three standard bathtubs put together.

And the best part of it? When you open the curtains to the sliding glass door on the backside of the room, there's a clear view of turquoise water and white sand.

“I guess Fury felt a little bad about springing this on me at the last minute, after all,” you sigh as you pull the door open, letting the light breeze pull the smell of saltwater into the room. “Can't say that I’ve been given a beachfront room for a mission before.”

Bucky walks up to stand beside you, leaning against the doorframe and staring out to the ocean.

“It's definitely a step up from the rat and roach infested Motel 6 that Sam and I had to spend three nights in when we were sent to Atlanta for recon last month.”

You shake your head, both cringing and laughing at the memory of him ranting about the motel room as soon as he saw you after returning home.

“It was the size of a fucking capybara. Why are you laughing? I opened the bathroom door and it charged at me–”

A sudden deep rumbling noise snaps you out of the memory and you glance down at your stomach in surprise. You suppose it makes sense that your body is screaming at you to eat - you had such little time to pack for Destin before your flight left that you hadn't even bothered with lunch today.

“How does pizza sound?” Bucky asks with a knowing smirk. “I saw a pizza place just down the street on the way here.”

“Anything sounds good right now,” you sigh, both starving and exhausted from your day of packing, unpacking, re-packing and traveling.

“I'll go grab one for us,” he tells you, pulling the keys to the rental car out of his pocket. “Just stay here and get settled in.”

You don't object, itching to change into comfier, more weather appropriate clothes. When you left the state of New York just a few hours ago, it was chilly outside. Now that you are in eighty plus degree Destin, the sweater and boots that you're wearing have got to go.

You unpack your bag, thankful that you had brought a pair of casual drawstring shorts. You throw them on, along with a tank top. You decide to go ahead and convert the futon from a sofa into a bed, and then search through the hotel room's small linen closet for a set of sheets and a quilt. If Bucky insists on you taking the comfier sleeping option and going to get food for the two of you, you figure the least you can do is make his bed for him.

When he returns, he not only has a large cardboard box containing the pizza, but a plastic bag hanging from his vibranium arm as well.

“Grab a towel and follow me,” he tells you before he's even closed the door behind him.

“Follow you?” You laugh, taken aback by the instructions. “Where are we going?”

You hop up from where you'd been mindlessly scrolling on your phone on the bed, doing as he asked and grabbing one of the complementary beach towels from the bathroom closet.

“Not staying holed up in our hotel room. Remember?”

And with that he pulls the sliding glass door open with his empty hand and exits the room, heading towards the beach that sits directly in the backyard. You don't even take the time to throw on a pair of tennis shoes before practically running after him through the sand.

He comes to a stop when he's a few yards away from where the waves wash up against shore and turns back to look at you. You take it as your cue to spread the towel across the sand at your feet.

He sits down and you follow, the cardboard box nestled between you. He opens it, revealing a pizza that is split down the middle - half your favorite, half his favorite.

“I know it's not a campfire in the Great Smoky Mountains,” he smirks. He digs into the plastic bag and pulls out a drink for each of you, along with some napkins. “But it's the best I could do in our current situation.”

The sentiment leaves you momentarily speechless. You know it isn't a grand declaration of love, and it might not mean as much to some people as it does to you - but you can't remember the last time someone went out of their way just to improve your day in such a simple yet thoughtful way.

Between the pizza, the vibrant pink and purple sky as the sun sinks beyond the ocean's horizon, the sound of the waves and him beside you, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now.

“No,” you murmur. “It's not. But it's perfect.”

••••••

The next day, you manage to forget that you're actually on a super important mission taking down a dangerous illegal arms dealer.

The first half of the day feels like an actual vacation - the closest thing you've had to a vacation in a long time, anyway. You sleep in until nearly ten o'clock in the morning - which may not be considered sleeping in for some people, but in this line of work, you've overslept if you're still in bed at eight am.

After waking up thoroughly rested and refreshed, the two of you get brunch and then spend the early hours of the afternoon leisurely strolling at the boardwalk just a short drive from your hotel.

You and Bucky are sitting on a bench eating ice cream when you check your phone for the first time in hours and realize how quickly the day has gone. It's already four o'clock - you're due to be on lookout at the pier where Petrov's exchange will occur soon.

“What's wrong?” Bucky asks when you huff under your breath as you stick your phone back into your pocket. “Nervous about tonight?”

You're not nervous, truthfully. You're fully confident that you and Bucky will be able to handle the job. You've been on countless missions less straight forward than this before, and so has he.

“No,” you shake your head as you take another bite of your ice cream cone. “It's… silly,” you say, waving your hand in dismissal.

“I'm sure it's not silly,” he assures you gently.

You pause, staring at a couple holding hands in the distance as you contemplate your words.

Bucky seems to follow your gaze.

“Today has just been really nice,” you shrug with a small smile. “I almost don't want to go back home.”

From your peripheral vision, you see his face shift to look at you. You continue to eat your ice cream, pretending that his stare doesn't warm you more than the Florida sun.

“We're on the same page then, doll.”

••••••

A few hours later, a feeder ship pulls up to the pier just after dusk.

“We've got eyes on three men,” you say lowly into your communication device. “They're guarding the pier. No sign of Petrov yet.”

“He'll show,” Fury's voice echoes in your ear. “Keep watch until then. Backup is on standby to take him in.” The comm clicks off before you can respond.

“I know there's a lot riding on this going smoothly,” you grumble as you bring your binoculars back up to your eyes. “But sometimes I think he just really needs to get laid.”

You and Bucky are across the road from the pier, concealed by large shrubs and the darkness of the night sky. You've been sitting here as still and silently as possible for well over an hour, before Petrov's men had even arrived to stand guard at the dock.

You really fucking have to pee.

Headlights begin to approach from down the street, and as the vehicle gets closer you're able to see that it's a large, black van.

Totally not suspicious at all.

It comes to a stop close to the boat dock, and a second later Petrov hops out of the driver's seat. You recognize him right away by his shrimpy build and receding hairline.

“I should just take them all out from here and be done with this,” Bucky grumbles from beside you.

“I agree,” you sigh. “But Fury's adamant that Petrov be brought in alive if possible. He’s got an empire behind him that we need to find out as much as possible about. His men, however..” you trail off.

Bucky looks through the scope of his gun, zeroing in on one of the guards.

“Blow a tire on the van first,” you murmur. “So Petrov can't flee.”

“I'll take out these three guards, and then I'll get Petrov and call for back-up. You worry about getting to that ship and taking out anyone inside. Sound like a plan?”

“Easy peasy,” you agree.

Less than thirty seconds later, all three guards have dropped dead and Petrov is frantically running to his van, unaware that Bucky had shot the back tire after killing his guards. You and Bucky emerge from the shrubs, sprinting across the road. He dashes towards Petrov, who freezes and begins shouting curses in Russian when he sees what is running towards him.

Bucky lands a punch to Petrov's jaw as you're running past them, only slowing down enough to not trip over the guard’s dead bodies that are littered across the dock.

You're only a few yards away from the ship when you hear Bucky screech your name. You immediately come to a halt, turning back to see why he could be calling for you.

You see a tall, burly man - someone that you and Bucky hadn't noticed before - sprinting down the dock after you. He raises his arm above his head, his hand holding a rocklike object that he sends barreling in your direction.

It's the last thing you see before everything fades to black.

••••••

The shrill, repetitive beeping of a monitor pulls you out of limbo and back to earth.

You're met with painfully bright, fluorescent lighting that has you squinting your eyes shut before you can make sense of your surroundings.

“Bucky,” you attempt to call out but it sounds like the croak of a lifelong smoker. Your eyes begin to adjust to the harsh lighting, allowing you to see that you're alone in a hospital room. You raise your fingertips to where it feels as if your brain is pulsing through your skull. There's a thick, defined knot on the top of your head that's sensitive to the touch.

Panic starts to take over you. Bits and pieces of the mission start to flash through your mind. Bucky shooting the guards, you running towards the feeder ship when you heard Bucky yell your name and then turning to see –

“Bucky!” You call out louder, your voice still hoarse. You sit up, not hesitating to carelessly yank an IV out of your arm. You're vaguely aware of the fact that you're in only a hospital gown and that blood is now trickling down your left arm, but you don't care.

You throw your legs over the side of the bed, standing up far too quickly. Your vision fades to a fuzzy gray and you're overcome with an intense wave of vertigo as the room spins around you. You grab onto the metal side railing of the hospital bed to keep yourself upright, desperately trying to focus your eyes enough to find the nurse's call button.

“Hi! I'll be to your room in just a moment–” An overly cheerful, feminine voice pours from the speaker a moment after pressing the button.

“What happened? How long have I been here? Where is my–”

The door to your room opens, and you immediately breathe an audible sigh of relief as your last question is answered. He looks as though he could use a good night's sleep, but he is okay.

“What the fuck happened?” Bucky exclaims as he rushes over to where you're still clutching the hospital bed railing for support. You follow his gaze to your arm, seeing that there's now blood all over your gown as well as the white floor around your feet.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you mumble, embarrassed by your current state. He guides you back to the edge of the mattress before walking away to get a towel from the bathroom. “I was worried something happened to you,” you add weakly.

He wipes the blood trail on your skin before using the hand towel to apply pressure to the puncture in the bend of your arm.

“I'm okay,” he assures you delicately. “I had just gone to get some coffee.” He glances at the styrofoam to-go cup that you hadn't even noticed him place on the bedside table when he entered the room.

“How long was I asleep?” You ask, noticing that it's still pitch dark outside. You also notice that he's no longer in the clothes that he wore on the mission - now wearing a pair of loose fitting black sweatpants and a matching hoodie. “What happened?”

“There was another guy in the back of Petrov’s van,” Bucky tenses, still holding the towel to your arm for you. “We were both distracted and he snuck up on you. He hit you over the head with a piece of vibranium and threw you into the water.” His jaw clenches as he recounts what happened, meeting your gaze with a pained look.

“But you saved me,” you finish for him.

“Yes,” he gulps. “I did. But I was almost too late. By the time I knocked out Petrov and killed the man who hit you.. it felt like it took forever to find you in the water. You almost drown–”

He cuts himself off, unable to force the last word out. A nurse enters the room as you open your mouth to offer him reassurance. Bucky holds your gaze for a split-second longer before reluctantly dropping his hold on your arm and turning to take a seat in the room's singular guest chair.

The nurse informs you that they did a CT scan while you were unconscious, and that while you don't have any swelling or bleeding on your brain from the blow, the doctor believes you to have a concussion and tells you that she will need to do an exam now that you are awake before they feel comfortable discharging you.

Judging by the high-pitched ringing that you've heard in your ears since you woke up and the way that you feel dizzy when you even think about trying to stand up, you don't doubt that you're concussed.

An hour later, you've been thoroughly examined and it is confirmed that yes - you are indeed concussed. The doctor discharges you under the condition that you don't drive and that someone keeps a close eye on you for the next twenty-four hours.

“Don't worry,” you hear Bucky tell her when you step into the bathroom to throw on a pair of dry sweatpants, a t-shirt, and cheap shower slides that the hospital had given you to wear back to the hotel, seeing as how your tactical suit and boots are still sopping wet with ocean water. “I'm not letting her out of my sight.”

The nurse who helps you dress gives you a small smirk at his words.

“You're a lucky woman,” she tells you quietly. “He was worried sick until you woke up.”

You avoid her gaze, your cheeks heating. You busy yourself by tightening the drawstrings to the gray sweatpants.

“I am lucky,” you agree. “He's a great partner.”

She raises an eyebrow at the word partner, but doesn't make any further comment.

By the time that you and Bucky make it back to your hotel room, the sun has started to rise.

Bucky all but carries you inside, only letting go of you when you're perched on the edge of the mattress. Your head is still throbbing despite the extra strength ibuprofen that you'd taken before leaving the hospital, and you still can't walk without stumbling from dizziness, but at least the intense ringing in your ears has begun to subside.

You feel tired down to your very bones, but you have no doubt that Bucky is even more exhausted. You'd been unconscious for nearly eight hours during the night, whereas he had been awake the entire time sitting by your bedside.

“You get some rest,” you tell him. You brace your hands against the mattress, preparing to attempt to stand back up. “I smell like a mixture of sweat and fish from being in the ocean, so I'm going to shower off.”

You push yourself off of the bed, and as quickly as you stand, you're sitting back down. The room immediately begins spinning in circles around you, sending a wave of nausea through the pit of your stomach.

“Yeah, not likely,” Bucky huffs lightly. “You can't stand up, and the shower doesn't have a seat. How about we compromise on a bath?”

You give a weak nod, too tired to protest. A warm bath sounds incredible right now.

Bucky retreats to the bathroom, where he turns on the water to fill the tub before returning to help you get up from the bed without toppling over. He secures his flesh arm around your waist and guides you to the closed toilet, where you carefully sit down.

“Do you.. need help undressing? Or..?” He asks hesitantly.

“No,” you breathe with an awkward laugh. “I think I've got it.”

He gives you a quick nod, looking away to give you the privacy to shed your clothes. You carefully tug the oversized t-shirt the hospital had given you over your head, wincing when it brushes against the swollen knot on the side of your scalp. You rise off the lid of the toilet just enough to push your sweatpants down to your ankles.

“Okay,” you murmur, letting him know that you're ready to step into the tub.

He grabs one of your hands in his, and places his metal hand on the small of your back as you step over the side of the large jacuzzi tub and into the water.

Not that you don't trust your other teammates. But with Bucky, it doesn't feel vulnerable.

You're aware of the intimacy of the scenario, but you can't find it in yourself to feel insecure or embarrassed right now - you're sure that's largely due to the concussion, but you think it's also simply because of who you're with.

If it were Sam, or Steve, or anyone else, you know you'd be mortified to be utterly exposed as they help you take a bath. If it were anyone else you wouldn't be taking a bath right now - you would have just gone to sleep and waited until you could fully do it yourself instead of putting yourself in such a vulnerable position.

He lowers you into the water, your entire body instantly relaxing at the warmth. You glance to his face, noticing a faint purple bruise along his cheekbone.

“I'm going to leave the door cracked. I'll be right outside if you need anything. Just let me know when you're ready to get out, okay?”

You don't respond, instead reaching up to his face, where you run your finger along the outline of the bruise. He freezes beneath your touch, his eyes meeting yours.

“Don't worry,” he assures you softly. “It was a lot worse when it first happened. It's already almost gone.”

“I'm sorry,” you whisper. “It happened because of me. I wasn't paying attention as well as I should have been. Should have heard that guy coming.”

“Don't say that.” He places his flesh hand on top of where yours still rests against his cheek and then brings it in front of his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. “You're okay, and that's the only thing that matters now.”

“Mmm,” you hum, staring at his lips that are no more than an inch away from your hand.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice patient and curious.

You hesitate for a brief moment before leaning forward and pressing your lips to the bruise in a featherlight kiss. You pull back, once more resting your back against the tub and giving him a small shrug.

“Just thinking that I wanted to do that. Have for a while.”

He grins, a faint blush taking over the apples of his cheeks.

“Yeah, I'd say you're definitely concussed.”

He then presses his lips to the side of your hand, causing goosebumps to form across your skin despite the warm water that you sit in.

You chuckle, your smile matching his. “I am,” you agree. “But the concussion will go away soon, and I'll still want to kiss you then, too.”

“I hope that you will do just that.”

••••••

One month later

You wake up to the smell of campfire smoke that creeps through the crack in the partially zipped tent.

Despite a thick sleeping bag, multiple blankets, and the plush sweater that you wear, you can't help but shiver.

Something is missing.

You look around the tent, your eyes adjusting to the early morning daylight that filters into the tent.

Someone is missing.

You reluctantly exit your cozy sleeping bag, shoving your wool sock covered feet into your boots and crawling out of the tent.

Bucky is facing away from you, cracking an egg into a pan that is positioned over the fire.

“Good morning,” you murmur as you creep up behind him, wrapping an arm around his midsection. He wraps his own arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Morning, sleepy head,” he teases softly. “What's on the agenda today?”

“Maybe some hiking, maybe some biking,” you shrug into him. “Maybe a little bit of you keeping me warm in that tent.”

He laughs, more carefree than you've ever seen him before.

“See? It's a good thing that your trip got postponed. What if I wasn't here to keep you warm?”

You raise up to capture his lips in yours, the taste of fresh brewed French press coffee on his breath.

“Remind me to thank Fury for that when we get back.”

thank you so much for reading 💕🫶🏻 comments and reblogs are infinitely appreciated!!

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 3 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. ( need to edit this later because I'm exhausted right now)

word count: 3.5k

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If the intruder had made another noise then hadn’t been able to hear it. Not over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Dread washed over you, the blood in your veins turning to ice as you were struck with a sudden realization: 

Either you fought for your life, here and now. . . or you died. 

Your throat locked up, and suddenly you found yourself unable to say anything at all. Shouldn’t you be screaming like a madwoman? Had he seen you undress for the night? Had he been lurking in a corner or a closet as your attendants had run your bath? Was everybody in on this? 

Every nervous smile and antsy movement came rushing back to you. Betrayal slapped you in the face so hard that it stunned you back into motion. 

The knife that you had hidden away in your room after breakfast was shorter than you would have liked- minimal reach, meaning you’d have to get up close to the attacker. Still, you somehow managed to kick the sheets off of you in order to lurch to the side before he was able to brandish his own blade. You heard it cut through the air, the loud tearing of the pillow where your head had just been perched a millisecond ago echoed through the pitch black room. 

You moved towards the door, bare feet against ice cold marble, and finally began to open your mouth to scream for whatever guards were sure to be stationed near the guest quarters. 

“I wouldn’t bother,” The man’s voice sneered, a smile evident in his voice. “No one will save you.” 

There it was. The truth. 

Everyone hated you, but you already knew as much. There was very little you could do in your nightdress- no way you could properly fend off an attacker without any shoes on your feet. Even worse, you had no shield. 

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, raising the knife so that you were holding it defensively in front of you. You hated how pathetic you sounded with your voice shaking like that. Still, your hands held strong. 

Under immense trauma and stress like this your body had gone into autopilot. Again and again your training has been hammered into you. You must remain calm. Act with surety. 

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. 

You waited, listening to see if he was getting close to you. The bed creaked, the attacker stepping into a single ray of silver light that had escaped through the blinds.

 It was a guard. 

So this was planned. You should have known enough. You would have thought that Feyd would have been the one to orchestrate the whole thing, but his earlier warning had made it clear to you that he hadn’t wanted you to perish. At least not like this. 

He didn’t say anything else to you before his arm came barrelling down. You stepped to the side, almost tripping over the fabric of your dress in your panic. The cutter blade struck the wall behind you, and in the man’s blind fury he left his side completely defenseless. You surged forward, the knife tightly clutched in your hand, and brought it down hard on his arm. He cried out, the sound nearly deafening you as it echoed off of the empty walls. 

“You bitch!” His weapon clung against the ground. 

Still, his uninjured arm struck against the side of your face. The world tilted beneath you as you stumbled backwards, your spine cracking against the dresser drawer as your knees buckled beneath you. Pain. It felt like he had just drilled a hole clean into the side of your face. No one had ever landed a blow to you like that. The guard took advantage of your stunned state, moving forward so that he could wrap his meaty hands around your throat. 

You needed to use the Voice. He had to stop. . . but his hands were squeezing too tightly. Your lips moved but little more than fearful croaks escaped you. Tears pooled in your eyes at the pressure, at the pain, at the fucking fear that was threatening to swallow you up whole, whole, whole until you were nothing. Your nails scrapped against any bit of skin that you could find. He hissed in pain, using the weight of your own body against you as he slammed you against the dresser where he currently had you pinned. 

You kicked out your legs, desperately trying to find a foothold so that you could wrench yourself upwards. If you were in pants then you might have been able to save yourself, but your bare feet slid out against the loose fabric pooled underneath you. The man had struck when you had been most vulnerable. He was killing you. 

Your eyes widened, the tears finally spilling past the thick wall of your lower lashes. He was killing you. He was killing you. He was killing you. 

With the ringing filling your ears, you hadn’t heard the commotion outside of your door. Only when it slammed open, light from the hall flooding in, did you realize that someone had been alerted. The hands around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a deep, wheezing breath in. 

“Help me.” But you couldn’t reach the correct frequency, not when your vocal cords were so damaged. 

Still, with bleary eyes you stared up at whoever’s large form filled the doorway. Begging them to save you. 

And so they did. 

The world just fell away, like ink on wet paper- it all bled around him. All sound and sight ebbed away, the only thing visible in his rage being your tear filled eyes. Feyd had seen looks of pure terror on the faces of men he had bested countless times before. It never meant much to him. The lives he had taken never weighed heavy on his shoulders. He never cared much for anything aside from his own ambitions. He had goals- found minor joy in sharpening his mind and his blades. 

 He had carried his memories of you from childhood with him into adulthood, each glance and nervous smile acted as a balm that soothed any future traumas or worries. He knew that one day he would be standing exactly where he was right then, with you within arms length. 

This wasn’t what he had pictured throughout the years though. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently witnessing. 

Women bled the same as men did. He never felt overly-noble when it came to protecting them, no matter how weak or frail they looked. Feyd understood that it was survival of the fittest. People lost their lives every day in much crueler ways than suffocation. . . 

But the guard had his hands around your throat, and in that moment Feyd no longer saw the proud woman that had managed to nearly knock him off of his feet earlier. No, in that moment you looked just like that six year old little girl he had always cared for so dearly. You looked exactly how he had left you- scared, fragile and innocent. 

Feyd-Rautha wasn’t quite sure what love was, but he could imagine that it must be what he felt for you. Losing you was an impossibility, he’d never let it happen. He couldn’t. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

An eerie sort of calm befell the room, the only sounds being your shaky breaths as you tried to fill your aching lungs with air. The guard didn’t answer him, only stared with fearful eyes up at the Na-Baron. He was looking Death right in the face. 

“Was it your idea to attack her in the middle of the night like this?” Feyd took another step into the room, which had the guard scooting back awkwardly on his knees. “You were going to kill her in the dark like she was no better than an animal.” 

He hadn’t even been brave enough to face you with the lights on. 

Feyd, without turning around, used his foot to close the door behind him. Once again the room plummeted into pitch black darkness. There was a shuffling sound in front of him, the man trying to get to his feet as fast as he could to put some distance between the two of them, but it was too late. Feyd followed the source of the noise and reached out, grabbing the man around the stomach before sinking his blade deep into his neck. A sick wet gurgling noise caused you to let out a small cry. Still, the blue eyed man wouldn’t be offput by your disgust. 

He had to pay for what he did to you. 

And so he dislodged the knife easily, the sharp blade gliding through muscle and skin, and then stabbed again. And again. And again. The guard moaned in pain, trying his hardest to buck and fight Feyd off of him. Even when the man’s legs gave out from under him Feyd followed him, falling to his knees so that he could continue his ruthless assault. 

The Na-Baron grit his teeth, eyes wide as his knife continued to find purchase in the corpse beneath him. The bastard had caused you to suffer. He had hurt you. Feyd didn’t stop there either. He stood up and made his way out into the hallway. 

The rage had made a home somewhere deep in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with so much anger. He needed. . . he needed to make everyone atone for what they had done to you. Did they think that he would approve of their lame assassination attempt? 

“You heard everything and did nothing!” He screamed out at the other guards who stood in the hallway. 

His hands were coated in blood, his black shirt and night pants soaked through, clinging to his skin. All they could do was watch him, unable to say anything at all. Feyd knew that they could not deny his claims. They had all been in on this from the start. 

And so he raised his blade again and did not stop until every man in the hallway was long-dead. 

Not a word had been said since the incident. You didn’t even complain when Feyd had all but dragged you through the halls, rather you followed him as emotionless as a doll. The blood of the fallen marred your arms and crisp white nightdress. It was as if your body had gone into auto pilot. Your mind was lost to you, as you felt as though you were floating off somewhere far away. You no longer existed at all. 

You were just a hollow shell now, in a state of shock that had you shutting down completely. 

Where was he taking you? You didn’t know, nor did you particularly care anymore. 

The guard’s final breaths had sounded wet, probably due to the blood in his lungs. The blade hitting bone. His moans of pain. Those sounds still echoed in your ears, and you were positive that you’d never be able to get them out of your head. 

You’d never witnessed anything like that in all of your life. Someone had been killed mere feet away from you. And yet you weren’t sorry for him. You searched yourself for even an inkling of pity and came up short. The bastard got what he deserved. 

“Why did you have to do that in front of me?” You managed to mumble out. 

Tonight would soon become a memory that would never abandon you. Even in old age you were certain that you would be able to recall every gut wrenching detail of tonights events. When the door leading out to the doorway had opened and illuminated the room, Feyd’s sins had been revealed in full to you. 

The guard was unrecognizable. He no longer looked human to you, his insides turned out. Your betrothed had quite literally gutted your attacker in front of you. 

Your bare feet tracked blood on the floors, the long skirts of your nightgown soaked with another man’s blood. 

“I killed him for you. I wanted you to experience every moment of retribution.” He didn’t turn around to face you as he spoke. Instead he kept his eyes on the hallway, the pupils of his pale blue eyes blown out wide. 

You cast a look down at the hand that was holding your arm in a vice-like grip. He was shaking. It was almost as though he could feel your eyes on his hand. His trembling fingers dug into your soft skin. 

Feyd released you once the two of you were alone in a room together, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. You stood there, motionless as you followed the line of his jaw with your eyes. The muscle there ticked a few times as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He was still agitated, you could tell. 

“You’re starting to bruise.” He motioned towards his own neck. 

Your hand flew up to your throat, poking at the tender skin. It felt hot under your touch- sore too. It would serve as a reminder of how close you had come to death. Tonight you felt nothing. . . but what about tomorrow? Would you ever be able to sleep again? 

“How did you know that I was being attacked?” Your suspicion was beginning to build back up again. There were just too many coincidences. 

“You think I had something to do with this?” He sounded agitated. There was no hint of his usual sarcastic lilt in his tone. 

You’d never seen Feyd like this before. He actually seemed. . . offended but your gentle accusation. 

“You can’t answer my question with yet another question. How did you know I was being attacked?” You might have been in a state of immense shock but you still had some wits about you. 

You were locked in a room with a murderer, and the possibility that he had a hand in your assassination attempt was high. Once again you found yourself utterly defenseless. If he tried to attack you now there was no way that you’d be able to defend yourself. Not only that but your throat was wrecked. You could barely talk at the current moment, meaning you couldn’t even depend on the Voice if you needed to. You were as helpless as a child in the wake of Feyd’s power. 

“I see you in my dreams sometimes.” 

Anyone else would have called him insane, but you were used to Paul’s dreams. They’d been getting even more vivid as he aged. So Feyd had a dream that you were in danger? You found it difficult to believe that he would go out of his way to come to your rescue. Still, here he was. 

“Is that why you warned me today at breakfast?” The pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. He’d known something was going to happen since last night. 

“Yes,” He tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Something told me to go and see you.” 

You didn’t have it in yourself to question him further. You’d have to be satisfied with his answers. What you really wanted was a bath and a fresh change of clothes. One last look at your soiled clothes had your nose wrinkling in disgust. The smell of blood was thick in your nose- so strong that the iron scent almost smelled sweet. You gagged outwardly, putting your hands on your knees as you suddenly dry heaved. 

“You realize that he couldn’t be left alive after what he had done, don’t you?” 

Of course you did. That didn’t make it any better though. Your fingers stuck together, caked in blood, as you balled them into fists at your sides. 

“Bath.” Was all you said, already looking around the room that you assumed was his living quarters for any sign of a tub. 

He didn’t make any complaints as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself. Feyd gave you the time to process everything, didn’t knock on the door even once as the minutes ticked by. You stayed in the water until your fingers pruned and rubbed your skin until it was raw. Blood was everywhere. Under your nails, between your toes- it had even soaked through your dress and now caked your lower legs and thighs. 

You threw on a thin cotton robe you found neatly folded on a small towel rack, tying it tightly around your waist before you built up the courage to face your fiance again. 

“Take me back to my room.” You were eager to fall asleep. 

You’d been through too much. The thought of having to be conscious was tiring in itself. If you could close your eyes and sleep for the next ten years then you would. 

You missed your home. You missed your parents and Paul. You missed stability and security. Your life felt lost to you now. 

“This is your room now.” He was laying on the bed, already in a change of clothes. He seemingly took a bath himself while you had locked yourself away. There was no trace of gore left on him now. 

Your mouth went dry, palms pooling with sweat. Surely you were understanding him incorrectly. 

“You can’t expect me to sleep in the same room with you. We aren’t married.” There was absolutely no way your parents would approve of something like this. 

“I don’t trust anyone besides myself with your safety.” 

You didn’t trust anyone. Especially not Feyd. 

“Why should I be expected to sleep with you? I don’t feel comfortable-” 

“I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you again. Let that pile of bodies act as a warning to anyone else that tries. That’s why you should be expected to stay here with me. Get in the bed.” He seemed tired. Aggitated. 

“No.” You held strong. Never in your life had you slept in the same room as a man, let alone someone like Feyd-Rautha. He’d sooner kill you in your sleep then anyone else would. 

“Come here.” His tone caused you to jump. 

You had to bite your tongue as you approached him, sitting down awkwardly on the bed before you finally succumbed to his wishes. The bed was softer than your own, which you immediately envied. The soft mattress enveloped you, and all at once the tiredness you hadn’t felt until then finally sank in. 

You didn’t put up much more of a fight. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own accord. Feyd was watching you, turned on his side so that he could get a better look at you. It was then, for the first time ever, that you fully noted how beautiful he was. Up close like this he was even more striking. Blue eyes, full lips and pale, flawless skin. 

One thing that went unnoticed by you was the fact that Feyd didn’t turn the lights off. 

Without having to ask. . . he didn’t turn the lights off. 

← previous chapter | next chapter →

ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:

@elf-punk @shitfuckeryclownverse @mydarlingelvis @heartarianagran @ohdearmaggie @chalametism @killingboredom @obsessedvibee @avidreader73 @softboo @tedcruzumakii @luminnara @narniansmagic @torchbearerkyle @ziggy-stardust-world @tian-monique @adoxra @zz-snow-zz @tiredsleepyhead @icontrolthespice @itsparksjoyhuh @verveta345 @shegatsby @zae5 @ertepla @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @lotus-888 @meetmeatyourworst @moonchild-artemisdaughter @abswifey @flower-frog @auroranodyssey @forgedfromthestars @moony-artemis @juliskopf @moonsoulk @serrendiipty @atrxidxs @the-ruler-of-death @mintoblobo @just-pure-trash @randominterwebthings @springholland @so-dramatic1 @ashy-kit @aslutforscarletwitch99 @sofia-013 @gamorxa @ricecakeslove @alexandrainlove @selfishlittlebeing @ceres27

[mostlysignssomeportents]

You should be using an RSS reader

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

No matter how hard we all wish it were otherwise, the sad fact is that there aren't really individual solutions to systemic problems. For example: your personal diligence in recycling will have no meaningful impact on the climate emergency.

I get it. People write to me all the time, they say, "What can I change about my life to fight enshittification, or, at the very least, to reduce the amount of enshittification that I, personally, experience?"

It's frustrating, but my general answer is, "Join a movement. Get involved with a union, with EFF, with the FSF. Tell your Congressional candidate to defend Lina Khan from billionaire Dem donors who want her fired. Do something systemic."

There's very little you can do as a consumer. You're not going to shop your way out of monopoly capitalism. Now that Amazon has destroyed most of the brick-and-mortar and digital stores out of business, boycotting Amazon often just means doing without. The collective action problem of leaving Twitter or Facebook is so insurmountable that you end up stuck there, with a bunch of people you love and rely on, who all love each other, all hate the platform, but can't agree on a day and time to leave or a destination to leave for and so end up stuck there.

I've been experiencing some challenging stuff in my personal life lately and yesterday, I just found myself unable to deal with my usual podcast fare so I tuned into the videos from the very last XOXO, in search of uplifting fare:

https://www.youtube.com/@xoxofest

I found it. Talks by Dan Olson, Cabel Sasser, Ed Yong and many others, especially Molly White:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MTaeVVAvk-c

Molly's talk was so, so good, but when I got to her call to action, I found myself pulling a bit of a face:

But the platforms do not exist without the people, and there are a lot more of us than there are of them. The platforms have installed themselves in a position of power, but they are also vulnerable…

Are the platforms really that vulnerable? The collective action problem is so hard, the switching costs are so high – maybe the fact that "there's a lot more of us than there are of them" is a bug, not a feature. The more of us there are, the thornier our collective action problem and the higher the switching costs, after all.

And then I had a realization: the conduit through which I experience Molly's excellent work is totally enshittification-proof, and the more I use it, the easier it is for everyone to be less enshittified.

This conduit is anti-lock-in, it works for nearly the whole internet. It is surveillance-resistant, far more accessible than the web or any mobile app interface. It is my secret super-power.

It's RSS.

RSS (one of those ancient internet acronyms with multiple definitions, including, but not limited to, "Really Simple Syndication") is an invisible, automatic way for internet-connected systems to public "feeds." For example, rather than reloading the Wired homepage every day and trying to figure out which stories are new (their layout makes this very hard to do!), you can just sign up for Wired's RSS feed, and use an RSS reader to monitor the site and preview new stories the moment they're published. Wired pushes about 600 words from each article into that feed, stripped of the usual stuff that makes Wired nearly impossible to read: no 20-second delay subscription pop-up, text in a font and size of your choosing. You can follow Wired's feed without any cookies, and Wired gets no information about which of its stories you read. Wired doesn't even get to know that you're monitoring its feed.

I don't mean to pick on Wired here. This goes for every news source I follow – from CNN to the New York Times. But RSS isn't just good for the news! It's good for everything. Your friends' blogs? Every blogging platform emits an RSS feed by default. You can follow every one of them in your reader.

Not just blogs. Do you follow a bunch of substackers or other newsletters? They've all got RSS feeds. You can read those newsletters without ever registering in the analytics of the platforms that host them. The text shows up in black and white (not the sadistic, 8-point, 80% grey-on-white type these things all default to). It is always delivered, without any risk of your email provider misclassifying an update as spam:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/10/dead-letters/

Did you know that, by default, your email sends information to mailing list platforms about your reading activity? The platform gets to know if you opened the message, and often how far along you've read in it. On top of that, they get all the private information your browser or app leaks about you, including your location. This is unbelievably gross, and you get to bypass all of it, just by reading in RSS.

Are your friends too pithy for a newsletter, preferring to quip on social media? Unfortunately, it's pretty hard to get an RSS feed from Insta/FB/Twitter, but all those new ones that have popped up? They all have feeds. You can follow any Mastodon account (which means you can follow any Threads account) via RSS. Same for Bluesky. That also goes for older platforms, like Tumblr and Medium. There's RSS for Hacker News, and there's a sub-feed for the comments on every story. You can get RSS feeds for the Fedex, UPS and USPS parcels you're awaiting, too.

Your local politician's website probably has an RSS feed. Ditto your state and national reps. There's an RSS feed for each federal agency (the FCC has a great blog!).

Your RSS reader lets you put all these feeds into folders if you want. You can even create automatic folders, based on keywords, or even things like "infrequently updated sites" (I follow a bunch of people via RSS who only update a couple times per year – cough, Danny O'Brien, cough – and never miss a post).

Your RSS reader doesn't (necessarily) have an algorithm. By default, you'll get everything as it appears, in reverse-chronological order.

Does that remind you of anything? Right: this is how social media used to work, before it was enshittified. You can single-handedly disenshittify your experience of virtually the entire web, just by switching to RSS, traveling back in time to the days when Facebook and Twitter were more interested in showing you the things you asked to see, rather than the ads and boosted content someone else would pay to cram into your eyeballs.

Now, you sign up to so many feeds that you're feeling overwhelmed and you want an algorithm to prioritize posts – or recommend content. Lots of RSS readers have some kind of algorithm and recommendation system (I use News, which offers both, though I don't use them – I like the glorious higgeldy-piggeldy of the undifferentiated firehose feed).

But you control the algorithm, you control the recommendations. And if a new RSS reader pops up with an algorithm you're dying to try, you can export all the feeds you follow with a single click, which will generate an OPML file. Then, with one click, you can import that OPML file into any other RSS reader in existence and all your feeds will be seamlessly migrated there. You can delete your old account, or you can even use different readers for different purposes.

You can access RSS in a browser or in an app on your phone (most RSS readers have an app), and they'll sync up, so a story you mark to read later on your phone will be waiting for you the next time you load up your reader in a browser tab, and you won't see the same stories twice (unless you want to, in which case you can mark them as unread).

RSS basically works like social media should work. Using RSS is a chance to visit a utopian future in which the platforms have no power, and all power is vested in publishers, who get to decide what to publish, and in readers, who have total control over what they read and how, without leaking any personal information through the simple act of reading.

And here's the best part: every time you use RSS, you bring that world closer into being! The collective action problem that the publishers and friends and politicians and businesses you care about is caused by the fact that everyone they want to reach is on a platform, so if they leave the platform, they'll lose that community. But the more people who use RSS to follow them, the less they'll depend on the platform.

Unlike those largely useless, performative boycotts of widely used platforms, switching to RSS doesn't require that you give anything up. Not only does switching to RSS let you continue to follow all the newsletters, webpages and social media accounts you're following now, it makes doing so better: more private, more accessible, and less enshittified.

Switching to RSS lets you experience just the good parts of the enshitternet, but that experience is delivered in manner that the new, good internet we're all dying for.

My own newsletter is delivered in fulltext via RSS. If you're reading this as a Mastodon or Twitter thread, on Tumblr or on Medium, or via email, you can get it by RSS instead:

https://pluralistic.net/feed/

Don't worry about which RSS reader you start with. It literally doesn't matter. Remember, you can switch readers with two clicks and take all the feeds you've subscribed to with you! If you want a recommendation, I have nothing but praise for Newsblur, which I've been paying $2/month for since 2011 (!):

https://newsblur.com/

Subscribing to feeds is super-easy, too: the links for RSS feeds are invisibly embedded in web-pages. Just paste the URL of a web-page into your RSS reader's "add feed" box and it'll automagically figure out where the feed lives and add it to your subscriptions.

It's still true that the new, good internet will require a movement to overcome the collective action problems and the legal barriers to disenshittifying things. Almost nothing you do as an individual is going to make a difference.

But using RSS will! Using RSS to follow the stuff that matters to you will have an immediate, profoundly beneficial impact on your own digital life – and it will appreciably, irreversibly nudge the whole internet towards a better state.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/16/keep-it-really-simple-stupid/#read-receipts-are-you-kidding-me-seriously-fuck-that-noise

[johnbrand]

OnlyFags

With @boysmentfs

“God already? I just bought these like a month ago!”

Elliot tossed his headphones aside, annoyed. When he had bought the gaming headset, he had expected them to be excellent. So many other gamers had recommended the pair, but now they would not even connect to his monitor. Seeing that they were cordless, they were practically rendered useless.

Desperate, a risky idea suddenly popped into Elliot’s head. His older brother Trent had a decent enough pair that he could borrow. The plan was a fool’s errand if Elliot was caught; his brutish, jock brother could wipe him out in seconds for entering his room. And already loaded with emotional ammo on numerous accounts (being smaller, having intelligence, liking boys), Elliot was sure to end up at least hypothetically dead. 

But Elliot also knew that Trent was not coming home that night. He was over at his current girlfriend’s place, meaning all Elliot had to do was replace the headphones exactly as he found them. Enjoying the sense of danger, Elliot mischievously tip-toed out of his room–despite no one else being home–and carefully approached Trent’s door. His brother’s room was not any different from the stereotypical straight man’s quarters: sparsely decorated besides a poster of bimbos with a rock band, dirty clothes and foul-smelling shoes scattered on the floor, and an American flag on the far wall. 

Carefully avoiding the piles of empty beer cans, Elliot held his breath, hoping to not let any of his brother’s potent body odor enter his system. He eventually reached his destination, taking a seat at Trent’s desk and pushing aside anything that could dirty his bright-colored polo and shorts. It was easy to log into his brother’s computer and bypass the security functions, but Elliot had not expected to run into a problem with the Bluetooth compatibility. Until he disconnected the headphones from a specific site, Elliot would not be able to use them. It was a simple task, until Elliot realized it was a webcam site.

“OnlyFags?!” Elliot gasped. He would have never guessed Trent, the prime example of a cocky homophobic hetero alpha, would have been involved in OnlyFags–let alone a creator. The webcam site was practically known worldwide as a hate group–straight men teasing desperate, horny gays to make money. It was horrific, and yet it had somehow consistently exceeded expected profits. 

Trying his best to ignore this discovery and get back to the task at hand, Elliot logged into his brother’s OnlyFags account, hoping to be able to disconnect the headphones once and for all. The loading screens were long and annoying, spirals that seemed to go on for longer than necessary, but eventually Elliot navigated to the devices page. Instead of disconnecting his headphones however, he accidentally reconnected his brother’s camera.

“Oh no…please no,” Elliot squirmed. Before long, people hopped onto his feed, commenting about this new arrival. Elliot nervously tried to escape the program but every attempt appeared to fail, only booting up the loading screen once more without ever reaching an end destination. Elliot quickly put on one of his brother’s caps and held his head low, hoping the audience would think it was Trent until he was able to exit. His panic was rapidly rising, but out of the corner of his eye, something caught his attention. One of his unfortunate viewers had a request, stating that he should flex.

A sudden calm befell Elliot, and although his musculature was not visible, he surprisingly felt comfortable posing for the webcam. The timid act was not much, but it garnered a reaction from the viewers. Another requested for Elliot to flex from a different position, and he obliged, his slim frame gaining a small but fair applause from the gay audience. After succumbing to a few more requests, Elliot was soon hooked, continuously switching between the loading screen and listening to his fans. It did not take long until he started receiving messages requesting to start stripping, and to his own surprise, Elliot fulfilled them.

When one of the viewers typed that he wanted to see Elliot show off his “mammoth arms,” he willingly struck a pose. He did not hesitate to prove the next commenter wrong, who insisted his legs could not be “hardened with muscle and bloated out like massive logs of meat.” Elliot immediately tossed his legs up unto Trent’s desk, showcasing what one member of the audience guessed were Size 13 feet. The shirt was removed after Elliot had to prove his “hard six-pack,” the shorts already off before he was told to showcase the “classic bubble butt only these guys have.” 

Soon, the comments were less focused on requests and more so just stating observations. Elliot went back and forth between his live webcam and checking in on the spiral, although his panic had long subsided. “An abundance of body hair,” “Exudes arrogance and privilege,” “Only wants to play, get laid, and look good.” Eventually, Elliot even began to relish in the attention, becoming excited as his audience grew more vocal and engaged. This attention soon had Elliot massaging his member, his thick hands pumping the growing meat. It took his roused audience moments to realize this, yet Elliot was no longer afraid to respond to their excitement.

“You like that, don’t you?” Elliot’s voice oozed all-American jock. The crowd went wild, calling him irresistible, a pure stud. One viewer daydreamed what he was jacking off to, but another replied before Elliot could. “Probably cheerleaders or sorority chicks, these guys are all the same.” Elliot was about to reply differently, but a quick check in with the loading screen flashed a new image through his mind.

Tits. Touching them, motorboating them, and then finding his way down to the pussy. These images, these memories, made Elliot moan. The words almost left his mouth, but he knew his viewers would not be turned on hearing about his new and yet natural desire to breed and seed every chick he saw. No, he knew what they wanted to hear.

“That's it, you dumb horny faggot. You like this, don’t you?” Ethan smirked, continuing to pleasure his giant cock. OnlyFags terms and conditions were simple, but ironclad. Upon starting an account, creators had to “verify” they were straight, users endured the same sign-up requirements. “Blow your faggy brains out to a straight alpha like me, right now. Spend that useless cum, waste it on me.” When the system had detected Trent’s account had broken this agreement, the issue was immediately resolved. 

Quickly, a sudden rush of pleasure overran the new man. “Oh yeah BROOO!” Ethan shouted, white goo spilling forth just outside of the camera’s view. He did not want another dude–especially a homo–to see his dick after all, which was slowly dropping back into its still large flaccid state. 

Ethan, now just another dumb, homophobic, straight jock, found himself content with his work, taking pride as the tributes started rolling in. Thanks to Trent's and his system–while one got laid the other was pumped live–the twins were making bank. And why would they ever stop working if they got paid to do what they loved? Jerking off and fag-bashing had never been better.

“Tune in tomorrow, fairies,” Ethan licked his lips as he prepared to sign off. Cockily, he began grabbing at his pec. “Tomorrow’s sesh will be seeing a little more of this…” He then brought a hand back to down his massive cock. “and a lot more of this.”

[criminalamnesia]

simon’s been having dreams since you left.

horrendous, sickeningly sweet dreams, all of you. it’s always you. reminding him of something he’s not sure he ever really had— something like a mirage, there one minute and gone the next.

but you’d been gone for a while, really. since you’d woken up in that infirmary bed, hatred and terror in your eyes every time you looked at him.

perhaps it’s been longer than— probably since they had you in that damn chair. maybe even before, when whispers of a traitor slipped into their minds and dug its claws in. all signs pointing to you.

most of the dreams start like this:

he wakes to the sound of birdsong. sweet little chirps that sound just outside the window you insist be left open during the springtime.

he’d conceded, not daring to tell you no. it was always yes with you, which surprised him. yes, nonetheless.

he gives a soft groan as his eyes begin to crack open. you’re curled into him, your head resting atop his inked arm. the limb is completely numb, but he doesn’t dare to move it. he’s content to lay here and watch you, because this is when he feels he truly has you.

(but it’s a dream, he realizes when he wakes. and he thinks he never really had you— a destination he desired but never reached. he doesn’t have you anymore, and he never will again.)

the fragrant smell of your favorite flowers, which fill the flower beds surrounding the little blue cottage, wafts in through the window. vibrant pinks and yellows that came after days of hard labor— simon planting each little seed and tending to it until it blossomed. he refused to let you help. said it was his gift to you.

a token of his love.

(even though you’ve long since gone from the little blue cottage, he still labors over those flowers every growing season. a gift to you, that you’d never see the longevity of. that you’d never known was a labor of love.)

(he hated that the first time you’d laid eyes on the cottage, he hadn’t been with you. that you’d been forced to go there— that they (he) had forced you out.)

you curl deeper into his side, your hair tickling his arm. he watches you sleep, your eyelids fluttering as you dream. he can tell it’s a good one by the way your nose twitches and a grin spreads across your lips.

(too often, he wakes to your screams of terror. the screams you had loosed under his tortuous hand. no longer are the nightmares that plague you ones of the perils of your job. now, they’re memories of what he’s done.)

(he wonders if you still wake up screaming. he wonders if you wish he was there to calm you back to sleep, like he’d done countless times before.)

(he wonders if he is what you see in your nightmares now.)

he shifts his body slightly. you stir, eyes still tightly shut as sunlight beams through the airy sage green curtains. again, he couldn’t say no to you.

especially when you had given him the reason behind them. “I want to spend every minute together. just us. every moment out of service, I want.”

it was always yes with you.

“good morning, si,” you grumble, voice still thick from sleep.

“did I wake you?” he whispers, lips pressing to the hair atop your head.

“birdsong outside did,” you reply, a yawn splitting your mouth wide. his free hand finds your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“told ya we should shut the window, love.”

it’s here when things start to differ.

in the good dreams, you look up at him with a grin. the pair of you spend the next hour in bed, drifting in and out of sleep and whispering mundane thoughts to each other. him holding you tightly, swearing he can feel your warmth next to him even when he inevitably wakes.

the bad dreams are more common.

when you look up at him, he sees one of two faces. the first face looks at him with the same expression you’d had back in price’s office, before you had slammed a fist into his jaw.

it’s heartbroken and it’s tired. it’s hateful and scared and ashamed.

(he still thinks it’s beautiful.)

the second face is battered and beaten and bruised. it’s the face you’d worn when in the chair, tortured by his hand. swollen and discolored. bloody. broken.

but most of all, it’s betrayed.

and that jolts him awake. but he doesn’t mind the bad dreams. doesn’t mind any dreams, now.

because they’re always about you. about his greatest failure, his greatest love. he sleeps so he can see you because it’s all he gets now.

he doesn’t know where you went after the cottage, none of them do. you wanted it that way. he wouldn’t dare seek you out. he owed you that much.

so he sleeps.

and he dreams of you.

here’s a little drabble about simon after reader leaves at the end of traitor. definitely inspired by ‘sailor song’. hope you all enjoy :)

p.s. I hate tumblr bc I had written this and tried to save it and the app crashed. so this is my poor attempt of recreating a work I was proud of :(

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I Soulmate AU I 2k I Rated Mature I idiot4idiot

The thing about linking with your soulmate, you never knew when it was going to happen. There were horror stories about it happening during weddings to someone else or while performing heart surgery or landing a plane, but linking was so rare, stories like that seemed more like fairy tales than cautionary ones.

If anyone had asked Eddie what he thought about it, he would've said the odds of there being some guy out there destined to be his mate, let alone that he'd have to worry about linking during some critical moment, were astronomically low.

He'd be wrong.

Because his ears are ringing, his vision has tunnelled, and there's an empty vacuum where his usual chaotic thoughts should be. All signs pointing toward-

Hello?

Jesus H. Christ, not now! Not right now, this cannot be happening now. Quick! Think of something else! Uhhh… Golems! Ice golems! Or maybe frost giants. Yeah! Not having hate sex with your arch nemesis. Shit! Stop thinking about it! Frost giants, frost giants, frost giants!

Hate sex? He hears echo around his noggin next. Arch nemesis?

Fuuuuuck. No, darlin’, don't even worry about that stray thought! Nothing to see here. I'm, uh, baking! Yeah. Brownies. For a charity bake sale

A long pause, empty space between them, before he says, I don't believe you. I think you are having sex

Sex?! He screeches. How dare you! I would never!

You would. Go balls deep into a guy you don't even like, sounds like to me. Class act.

Oh god, there’s gotta be a way to salvage this.

No, let me explain, please!

Knock yourself out

Right. So, this guy, I know him from school, right? And he was always kind of a jerk. The space between them pings with a sort of stung feeling but Eddie doesn't understand how any of this works yet so he ignores it. But we end up having a few mutual friends, and this one really weird event happens that forces us to, like, team up, I guess. After all that I'm spending more time around the guy and he's not so bad. Invited me over to smoke up with him, which was cool. I'm gonna be totally honest, I'm not sure how exactly we got here, the sex part, but it’s pretty hot and heavy, kinda aggressive, so… yeah. Hate sex I guess

Soulmate is quiet again. His feelings bleed through anyway, at least Eddie's pretty sure that's what he's getting. It feels like embarrassment and disappointment.

You okay? Did I scare you off?

You don't like the guy at all? You said arch nemesis

Oh. Uh. Well… How did he explain to his future partner, if he hadn't already ruined it, that he likes him plenty, he's just been holding him at arms length, metaphorically, because he assumed the guy was straight? Up until roughly twenty minutes ago. He should probably start with honesty.

No, I like him okay. He's not as bad as I'd always thought. We give each other shit but I'm pretty sure it's just left over bullshit stereotypes from high school. I bully him about his music taste, he bullies me about my shitty van. That type of thing

…Right

He waits to hear back from his soulmate but he's not very talkative. That's okay, Eddie can talk enough for both of them.

So, what were you up to when we linked? Not driving I hope

He can hear the guy sighing over the link, which is worrying.

You'll never believe it, but I'm also having sex at the moment

Seriously? That's hilarious

Yeah. A hoot

Not having fun?

I was. But I recently found out the guy doesn't like me that much. So, yeah, real mood killer

Oh man. That sucks

Oh my god. Yeah, it really does. Kinda wish he'd get off of me so we can get the awkward part over with but he's distracted at the moment

Doing what?! Eddie yells, offended on his behalf.

“He’s busy not realizing he linked to the guy he was hate fucking.”

Huh?

“Eddie, open your fucking eyes.”

That's Steve talking.

He blinks his eyes open to see Steve looking up at him. He's not pleased.

Wait

“Yeah.”

Oh my god

“As impressive as it is that you managed to stay hard through that whole thing, I'd appreciate it if you-” He hisses as Eddie, rudely he realizes, pulls out without warning.

He scrambles to the end of the bed, bunching up the comforter around his junk. “I'm so sorry, fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry. I don't… I didn't…”

He can't fix this, he starts to slowly comprehend. He's made Steve think he hates him.

“Nah, it's cool. I get it.”

I don't hate you, I swear. You have to believe me

“Sure, Eddie.” He's yanking his briefs back on, angry and trying not to show it. “You just don't like me much.” Can't believe I did this again. So fucking stupid

Eddie's certain he's not meant to hear any of that but he responds anyway.

You're not stupid. Please let me explain

“You already did. And I am fucking stupid,” he snaps. “Here I thought we were flirting this whole time and you thought we were bullying each other. That's real fuckin’ stupid of me. I'd convinced myself you actually-” He snaps his teeth shut but Eddie can still hear the unfinished -liked me. “I really wish you would control your feelings, dude. You're broadcasting your horror straight into my head.”

“I don't know how to stop,” he quietly admits.

“Well if you'd ever shown up to health class you'd know how to control it.”

I never thought I would get a soulmate

Steve's surprise at that pings around his brain before he does what Eddie can't and shuts it down.

“I did. I've been thinking about it for years.”

And you ended up with me… And I ruined it before we even got started. I ruined it. Steve Harrington is my soulmate and I ruined it. What the fuck

“You don't have to say it like I'm some kind of prize.” He steps into his jeans and tugs them back up to his hips, not even bothering to do them up. Which is- “I guess it's nice that you think I'm hot. That's something. Maybe we'll be the first casual hookup soulmates.”

He has to fix this. Somehow. Think, god damnit! Wait! That's it! He just has to show Steve what he's thinking!

“I wish you wouldn't.”

“Too bad!” He snaps back.

Okay, as embarrassing as this is about to be, he has to tell the truth.

Eddie was in the 8th grade, Steve in 7th, when they first met. Or, when Eddie first noticed Steve anyway, they never really spoke to each other, their cliques already established by then. But Eddie can remember it like it was yesterday. It was lunch, Eddie was walking by with his bagged PB&J, when he heard it. Steve laughing. It was so joyful, Eddie didn't even know what he was laughing about but it made him smile anyway. Of course one of Steve's shitty jock friends caught him staring and called him a queer freak but that wasn't unusual.

“What the fuck, Eddie? Why do you remember that? And how are you so good at visualizing?”

He ignores the questions to move on to the next memory. Eddie's sophomore year they somehow ended up in the same Shop class. Again, they never spoke but he got to watch Steve work, tongue poking out while he concentrated, the proud look on his face when he whittled some hunk of wood into a recognisable shape.

“I forgot about that. It was a dolphin. I was dating Chelsea Hosteller, they were her favorite animal.”

“Lucky her.”

“Hey, fuck you, man, you're the one showing me this shit! What am I supposed to assume from any of this? You thought I was cute? So what? You clearly don't like who I am as a person, so what difference does it make?”

He's not going to have the patience for every single moment, and they're a lot of them, Eddie realizes that now. So he speed runs through them, making sure to send every bit of feeling through their link.

Steve in his Scoops outfit, luring Eddie to the mall but never making him brave enough to go in. The horror of not knowing whether Steve was alive or dead when he heard about the mall burning down. The joy of finding him at Family Video, somewhere he had reason to visit.

You never even talked to me there

Listening to every word to every story Henderson told him about Steve and his bravery. Pretending to be annoyed so no one noticed he was eating it up. Getting to know the real Steve over Spring Break, the giddiness he couldn't quite tamp down, even as he was scared shitless. The pain of knowing Steve was still in love with Nancy Wheeler, even though it was the obvious narrative to Steve's fairytale life. Of course he gets the girl at the end.

What? Is that why you-

The way he stuck around afterward, even though their dynamic was more antagonistic than friendly, and the way Eddie thrived off of every snarky comment. How it felt like banter even though Eddie knew, by all logic and reason, Steve was merely tolerating his presence. They would always be antithetical to each other, circling but never meeting.

Eddie, no

Steve growling ‘Do you ever shut up!’ before pouncing on him downstairs. The heavy pounding of his heart as he wrestled Steve up the stairs. The way his brain never did catch up to what was happening or why, until it was too late, and he was ruining both the greatest sex he'd ever had and also the chance to prove, though he's still completely unworthy, that he has already been primed and ready to fall for Steve for years. The shame of ruining it. The heartbreak of ruining it. The teeny, tiny spark of hope as Steve stares him down. He has to close his eyes to avoid it, lest he say something stupid and fuck it up again.

You…do like me?

Yeah, Stevie. I like you a whole lot. I just didn't think I was allowed to like you. I didn't realize you liked me too. I'm sorry I said all that shit earlier. I didn't want to tell the guy I'd just linked with that I was thoroughly enjoying the chance to sleep with this guy I'd had a crush on for years. That seemed rude

The bed dips and so does Eddie's stomach. Steve's enormous hands slide up his neck, into his hair, and gently cradle his face as he leans in to kiss Eddie square on the mouth.

Oh. Hi

Hi

This is nice

I think so too. How do you feel about finishing what we started but this time we both know that we like each other?

That sounds awesome. But are you sure? I really, really fucked up the first time

I thought you were perfect up until you called me your arch nemesis

I have been told that sometimes I'm a little dramatic

You know what, that's fair. I really should've taken that as a compliment, if anything

See? Now you get it

What I'm getting is another condom. Hold my ankle so I don't slide off the bed

You got it, baby

Unbelievable. Salvaged the wreckage of his own stupidity and managed to bag the hottest guy in town! Score one for the nerds!

“I heard that.”

[linaslivery]

౨ৎ FOOLISH ONE ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ Love sucks. Men suck. Even worse? Your “date” stood up up. To cheer you up, your friend invites you to a F1 race to cheer on her boyfriend and meet some new people. Not your thing. But a new face gives you hope.

PAIRING ౨ৎ Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS ౨ৎ men sucking ass and being assholes (lando not included), spelling mistakes

A/N ౨ৎ i’ve been holding back this fic longer than i should have 🥴 enjoy!!

INSTAGRAM

y/n_l/n has posted 3 new stories!

201 people replied to your stories!

user1 DONT TELL ME WHAT I THINK HAPPENED HAPPENED :((

user2 all she wants is love bro 😞

user3 being stood up for the 3rd time is so tough. i’m so sorry lovely ❤️‍🩹

lilyzneimer my baby :(( text the gc if you want to talk 🩷

→ y/n_l/n i will in a bit i just need to recollect myself 🥹

oscarpiastri who needs to be run over. name and address.

→ y/n_l/n oscahhhh 😭😭

IMESSAGES

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y/n_l/n

📍 Sunshine State

y/n_l/n going on a trip 🌺🌴☀️🐬

1,498 comments

user1 i hope you have a wonderful trip especially after what happened :(

user2 girl you deserve this trip after the cheating ex-bf and 3 ghosters

user3 I NEED TO KNOW WHERE TO 😩😩

→ y/n_l/n that’s a secret 🤫

user4 you deserve this so much. men suck ass

→ y/n_l/n MEN SUCK ASS 🗣️ 🔥 !!!

oscarpiastri something tells me i’m going to regret this

→ user5 WHAT DO YOU KNOW OSCAR

→ user6 i’m telling you guys it’s a gp

→ user7 gp??? you guys know she hates them and she said it plenty times before 😭😭

→ user8 you never know.. 😋

TWITTER

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oscarpiastri has posted a story 12 minutes ago!

562 people replied to your stories!

user8 HELLO DID YOU AND LILY LOSE Y/N??? 😭😭

user9 STOP NO WONDER SHE LOOKED SO LOST IN OTHER PEOPLE’S TWEETS😭

lilyzneimer oscar, y/n is actually going to kill us. why did she even leave the garage?!

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ she needed to use the bathroom but i sorta forgot her directions aren’t… the best. → lilyzneimer she’s never coming back to a gp ever again. → oscarpiastri ✔︎ yeah. i wouldn’t be surprised.

landonorris ✔︎ i think i have who you’re looking for..

y/n_l/n OSCAR JACK PIASTRI OPEN YOUR MESSAGES RN A GUY GAVE ME HIS NUMBER

oscarpiastri ✔︎ why am i scared…

IMESSAGES

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y/n_l/n and oscarpiastri have posted new stories!

738 people replied to your story! 849 people replied to your story!

user10 “who is this man” GIRL THATS LANDO NORRIS 💀💀

→ y/n_l/n lando who now

→ user10 your..? your best friends team mate..?

user11 NOT LANDO TRYING TO FLIRT WITH HER WHILE OSCAR IS TRYING TO FIND HER

user12 why do lando and y/n look like they got caught doing something they aren’t supposed to do 😭

user13 the lando y/n meeting wasn’t expected but now? it’s a need.

TWITTER

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landonorris ✔︎

landonorris WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆

5,493 comments

user14 HE DID IT!!

→ user15 IT TOOK A COUPLE YEARS BUT HE DID IT!!!

user16 sochi??? what’s sochi??? i only know miami!!

oscarpiastri ✔︎ well done man 👏👏👏

lewishamilton ✔︎ WELL DONE

y/n_l/n y’know… f1 races aren’t so bad

*♥️ by Author !!*

→ landonorris ✔︎ it’s better with you here. i mean, i did win the one race you’re here 😏

→ user17 lando making the moves??

→ user18 the second hand embarrassment because she didn’t reply back after that 😭😭

oscarpiastri ✔︎ @ landonorris making moves on one of my best friends??

→ landonorris ✔︎ why not?

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ but why

→ landonorris ✔︎ why not

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ but why tho 😐

IMESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

y/n_l/n

📍 Italia

y/n_l/n he said whoever loses pays.

tagged ; landonorris

1,250 comments

user19 LANDO-Y/N PT 2???

user20 is she there for emilia-romangna???

→ user21 I THINK SO

→ user22 the way they are fueling my delusion

user23 why are the cute together 🥴

→ user24 they can literally just be friends

→ user25 yeah and friends play chess and explore italy which is a romantic destination 💀

oscarpiastri ✔︎ sooo… did he win?

→ y/n_l/n are you kidding me? i wiped the floor with him

landonorris ✔︎ $100 down the drain 😐

→ y/n_l/n down the drain? more like down into my stomach

→ landonorris ✔︎ yeah yeah 😒

→ y/n_l/n ✔︎ don’t get pissy with me YOU are the one that insisted on going there AND paying BEFORE the chess game 🤨

→ user26 STOP THAT’S CUTE :((

user27 y/n and lando hanging out even though she hates grand prixs? this was not on my 2024 bingo card

→ user28 it def wasn’t but lord do they look good together

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landonorris ✔︎

landonorris fun days 🌊

1,690 comments

user29 HELLO THE SECOND PHOTO???

→ user33 mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy-

user30 IT SO OBVIOUSLY HER

→ user31 her?? who’s her??

→ user32 y/n!! she’s oscar and lily’s friend and hanged out with lando not too long ago actually

→ user31 oh. but how do we know it’s her???

carlossainz55 ✔︎ little lando norris isn’t so little anymore 😆 they grow up so fast 😭

→ landonorris ✔︎ haven’t been little for the past 8 years…

→ carlossainz55 ✔︎ i don’t know the texts send say otherwise

oscarpiastri ✔︎ huh. interesting.

→ landonorris ✔︎ …😰

oscarpiastri ✔︎ @ y/n_l/n you left me and lily for him? this guy?

→ user33 OSCAR CALLING HER OUT FOR LEAVING THEM???

→ user34 classic oscar fashion 💀

→ y/n_l/n he promised me that he had something worthwhile 😕

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ i did not need to know this.

→ y/n_l/n wdym???

→ y/n_l/n OMG OSCAR

→ y/n_l/n YOU LITTLE SHIT I DIDN:T MEAN IT LIKE THAT

→ y/n_l/n LANDO SAID HE HAD THE GOOD HÄAGEN-DAZS ICE CREAM :((

→ landonorris ✔︎ and it was some very good häagen-dazs ice cream 😏

→ y/n_l/n YOU’RE NOT HELPING LAN 😭😭

→ user35 LMAOAOOA

TWITTER

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y/n_l/n

320 people replied to your story!

landonorris ✔︎ dare I say.. boyfriend material?

→ y/n_l/n husband actually ☝️☝️

→ landonorris ✔︎ updates already?? barely even a month in 🥴

→ y/n_l/n what can I say? You’re the one and when you know, you know 🩷

IMESSAGES

TWITTER

IMESSAGES

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landonorris ✔︎

landonorris might have lost the race… but at least i’ve won first her heart :)) (ps: the only blonde that would separate us is if you dye yours blonde)

tagged ; y/n_l/n

3,018 comments

user36 THE CAPTION 😭😭

user37 AFTER THE DRAMA??

user38 bro said “lemme make a statement” after the accusations 😭

user39 everyone assumed so quickly as if it wasn’t obvious y/n and lando were dating

user40 i was expecting this but wasn’t at the same time

y/n_l/n ✔︎ yeah maybe second place

→ landonorris ✔︎ can i not be loving and romantic?? 😞😞

→ y/n_l/n ✔︎ just joking love you my mystical gnome 🩷

→ landonorris ✔︎ MYSTICAL GNOME???

→ user41 HELLO THATS SO RANDOM

oscarpiastri ✔︎ break her heart, and i’ll run you off the track

→ landonorris ✔︎ yes sir. won’t happen sir.

y/n_l/n

y/n_l/n i think i could get used to this sorta love. 🩷

tagged ; landonorris

3.959 comments

francisca.cgomes cutie(s)

→ y/n_l/n no u 🤭

→ landonorris ✔︎ it hasn’t even been a month and you already took my girl??

→ francisca.cgomes ✔︎ you snooze you lose 🤷‍♀️

user42 THEY BOTH DID IT!!

user43 CONFIRMED I REPEAT Y/N-LANDO IS CONFIRMED!!

user44 ITS HAPPENING GUYS Y/N FINALLY GOT A BF!!

lilyzneimer thank me everyone!! im the one that convinced her to go to the grand prix!!

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ thank you lily!! (i don’t get to hear y/n’s heart breaking because of idiots)

→ user45 thank you lily!! (we all say in unison.)

user46 all it took was one miami win and one text message to convince y/n.

→ user47 booking my own miami ticket after this 👩‍💻

oscarpiastri ✔︎ okay… maybe you guys are just a bit cute

landonorris ✔︎ who’s that pretty girl and handsome man in the photos?? 🤔

→ y/n_l/n hmmm… i heard their names are y/n and lando the best couple to ever??? even though her boyfriend is a little stupid at times she still loves him 🩷

→ landonorris ✔︎ loooovveee youuuuuu

→ landonorris ✔︎ but seriously. i love you so much and i’ll never take you for granted or do any of the nasty crap you went through. you deserve the world my love ❤️

→ y/n_l/n what if i cried.

→ landonorris ✔︎ then i’ll wipe your tears.

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ aw. (im hurling)

[greaseonmymouth]

I saw this shared around on Threads (why do I go there, I hate it) and commented on as 'this article is so good' and 'must read' including by a few people whose opinion I normally respect, and seeing as monsterfucking and monster everything is like a special little interest for me, I of course instantly clicked through to read it

and I have to say

what the everloving heterosexual fuck is this

two fat paragraphs about omegaverse that don't even mention its origins - I mean - I just - gaze upon this phrase, and despair:

During estrous, Omegas’ vaginas ooze with “slick,” responding to the Alpha’s intoxicating pheromonal perfume.

IT'S CALLED "SLICK" BECAUSE IT'S FROM SELF-LUBRICATING ANUSES. THE REASON THE OMEGAS NEED SELF-LUBRICATING ANUSES TO BEGIN WITH IS BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE VAGINAS.

I. have been rendered figuratively speechless. the straights don't know what slick is. the. i. how. how did we end up like this

their dicks swell at the base, creating a “knot,” which lodges them inextricably in the Omega’s slick-soaked (I am so sorry) vagina.

"(I am so sorry)" girl you're writing an article about monster smut and then you have the gall to be embarrassed by the this tame ass (or should i say vagina?) heterosexual omegaverse?

okay, okay. deep breaths. we've only just got started. we started by covering Morning Glory Milking Farm, a minotaur/human erotic romance novel, which well - I've read it, and it's not a bad book by any means, it was actually very very good, a solid story with a great cast and perfectly paced and satisfying romance and loads of sex - is very straight. it's just a minotaur. it's a big guy with a big dick. it's your standard gentle giant/normal sized girl romance. it's not very freaky, but you know, I don't blame the average reader for coming into this thinking this is some out there stuff. gotta start somewhere, right? we didn't all come up through draco/the giant squid crackfic in 2005, you know? and now we've covered Sarah J Maas and we're entering omegaverse territory, this is getting knottier now, right, freakier? this article is going somewhere, right?

you can imagine the intrigue, enemies-to-lovers, and other story lines involved as each captured female eventually finds the member of the barbarian tribe who is destined to worship and fuck the living daylights out of her for the rest of their lives. Oh, and their dicks have a sensitive spur on top designed for clitoral stimulation. It’s just as blue and velvety as the rest of their big alien bodies.

okay so the minotaurs aliens are blue now, i guess.

It seems, also, like the romance genre as a whole is being pushed by monster romance to make things in human-human books as freaky as possible.

ohh?? are we finally getting a proper freak on now??

This genre, “why choose?” or “MMF” (or sometimes even MMMF or MMFM), and also known as “reverse harem,” always features a heroine who is showered with sexual attention by men who are also sexually involved with each other.

having a thousand yard stare moment over here

this author seriously thinks that all these heterofied monster romance tropes are paving the way for the real freaky stuff that is, checks notes, "two hockey players fucking each other while the heroine calls the shots"

this author is positing that human queer erotica/romance are freakier than monster erotica/romance. like. she said that. with her whole chest. black on white.

on one hand a monster, an inhuman being, and on the other, a queer person, a human being. and apparently the real freak is not the minotaur or the blue alien. it is the queer human.

is this satire? it has to be, right?

because if it's not satire, this article is an entire case study in itself on the monstering* of queer people. stunning.

*academic term

[sweetsungiie]

Stolen Glances

|situationship!Sunghoon x f!reader, (kind of) toxic!Sunghoon, enemies to lovers (but not really)|

|warnings! cursing, mentions of alcohol and smoking, alcohol consumption, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), smut with plot, piv, protected sex, slight degradation and praise, minors dni! , pure filth so have fun|

|wc about 8k|

“I just don’t see why we’re throwing a ‘going away’ party, he’ll be back in like two weeks? Isn’t this a bit excessive?” With a roll of your eyes you let out a sigh from the back seat. Your fingers found the hem of the black mini skirt adorning your thighs, messing with it more the closer you got to your destination. 

“It’s not just a going away party, ok, it’s also a good luck party! Sunghoon’s going to Nationals this is a big deal and enough reason to celebrate, not that Heeseung and Jay ever really need a reason to throw a party.” Julie responds from the front seat with an excited smile on her face. 

“Okay but why do I have to come? Sunghoon and I can’t stand each other in case you forgot.” Outside the car window you notice the familiar street signs and houses leading towards the guys house, you knew you were approaching their street and you couldn’t ignore the nerves floating around your stomach. 

Sunoo groans from the passenger seat as he shifts his body to face you in the backseat. “Yeah, yeah, you hate each other but you’re also two grown adults in the same friend group so suck it up. Heeseung and Jay invited you and Sunghoon is very much aware. If he truly didn’t want you there he would have said something but he didn’t because he knows we’re all friends. It’s a big party so you probably won’t even have to speak to him.”

Of course you couldn’t tell your friend the real reason you preferred to stay home tonight so you would just have to suck it up and attend this party with a fake smile on your face the entire night and just hope Julie wants to go home early.

Sunoo wasn’t lying when he said this was a big party. You were still partially down the street and you could already see a line of cars parked on the side of the road. “Damn it, I knew we should have taken an Uber. Where the hell am I supposed to park now?” Julie jerked her head from left to right but it seemed the entire street was full of cars with no space in between. 

The blonde haired boy in the front seat only smiled brightly and pointed down the street, “Luckily I thought ahead. I called Soobin and he said we could park in his driveway. One of his roommates is out of town for the weekend so there’s an extra spot with our name on it.” Julie doesn’t hesitate to pull into the familiar driveway and before you knew it you found yourself walking through the doorway of a house you knew all too well. 

“There you are! We’ve been looking for you guys.” Jay is the first to greet you once you’re inside, his arm resting around a taller boy with dark black hair. You recognize him as an underclassman, the name Niki sounds promising but you’re not sure so you just smile kindly at the two of them.

“Now this isn’t exactly role model behavior, Jay. What will your underclassman think?” Julie shakes her head at him teasingly to which Jay just chuckles in response. 

“Nah, I’ve got a close eye on Riki, don’t worry about him. I’m getting him some water now. Man of the hour should be in the living room, think he was mid game with the others. I’ll be right back.” 

You held any further comments until Jay and the underclassmen were out of earshot, turning your head to watch them walk away before dropping the forced smile on your face. “Man of the hour? As if his ego wasn’t big enough.” 

“Play nice for a couple hours, you’ll survive. I’m going to look for Soobin and Beomgyu, bye girls.” Sunoo smiles and waves as he turns and makes his way deeper inside the house. 

“Come on, we can’t stand at the entrance all night.” Julie grabs your arm and pulls you in the direction of the living room and sure enough, there he was. Standing around a rectangular table scattered with red solo cups were the group of boys you had grown so fond of and Sunghoon was there too. The taller man was standing at the end of the table, a ping pong ball in his right hand with Jake hyping him up from his left side as he was about to toss the ball. He tosses it and to no one's surprise, he makes it into one of the cups making Heeseung, who stood at the opposite end of the table, take a drink. 

“Hey, nice! Hee you’re slacking.” Julie cheers with a laugh. Suddenly their eyes were on the both of you, no longer focused on the game of beer pong. You smile at the others kindly before allowing your eyes to drift over to Sunghoon, his eyes sparked with something you couldn’t explain but chose to ignore. 

Sunghoon quickly recovers, smiling brightly at Julie as he straightens up. “Julie, good to see you as always, thank you for coming.” His gaze shifts as his eyes meet yours again, this time a bitter look paints his features, “Y’n, you didn’t have to come all the way out here for me, seriously you shouldn’t have.” 

You felt a sting at his words but don’t let it show, instead you smile back, “You guys never really need an excuse to throw a party but celebrating you going away? How could I refuse something so sweet?” 

“Is that why you got all dressed up? Is that all for me?” He teases whilst dragging his eyes up and down your figure in front of everyone, but you don’t take the bait, instead you take the cheap shot that you know will come back to bite you but that's what he gets for ignoring you for the past week. 

“No, actually I remembered Heeseung said he liked this skirt on me once. What do you think, Hee? Still like it?” You spin around with a smirk on your face, stopping once you were facing Heeseung directly. He stares at you with a confused look on his face and his lips move as if he’s struggling to find the right words to say. You let out a giggle and slap his arms softly, “Don’t worry! I’m just teasing, I know I look good.” 

Heeseung chuckles and shakes his head at your humor, “When don’t you look good, Y/nnie.” His hand reaches up to ruffle your hair slightly which makes you huff. 

You don’t miss the way Sunghoon's eye burn into you at the action and it brings a smirk to your lips once you turn away from Heeseung only to find Sunghoon is still staring at you. You’re so focused on him you don’t even notice Julie grab at your arm and pull you away toward the kitchen with an announcement of grabbing a drink. 

Sunghoon doesn’t bother looking away from you as Julie pulls you away, not even trying to hide the distaste on his features. Jakes bumps his shoulder against him, “Dude, cut it out.” But the younger boy ignores him, turning his fiery gaze over to Heeseung now. 

“What the hell was that?” He asked before he could convince himself to stay quiet. Heeseung looks up from the ping pong ball in his hand and cocks his head to the side in confusion, he waits for Sunghoon to elaborate before answering. 

“Since when do you flirt with her?” If he had his head on straight, Sunghoon would have probably realized this line of questioning sounds a bit suspicious coming from him but Sunghoon never really thought clearly when it came to you. 

“You call that flirting? Man, stop playing around.” Heeseung dismisses him with a wave of his hand and turns his attention back to the game of beer pong in front of them. Despite Heeseung tossing the ball and making it into one of the cups, Sunghoon no longer seems interested and instead decides to walk away from the table altogether, leaving Jake and Heeseung standing with bewildered expressions on their faces.

He wasn’t sure what got over him tonight, he was usually much better at controlling himself around you. This little game the two of you have been playing has become almost second nature to him by now but there was just something about tonight. Maybe it was the way that cute mini skirt sat on your curves, or the way your soft hair cascaded down your back. Or perhaps it was because he had been so busy with practice and meetings the past few days that he’s barely been able to speak to you let alone see you in person. Sunghoon internally curses at himself for missing you just after a few days, this wasn’t like him at all. He’s not supposed to care, surely not supposed to miss your presence and get pissed off after you jokingly flirt with one of his friends. 

The rational part of Sunghoons brain is well aware that you are not actually hooking up with Heeseung nor are you actually interested in him but that side of him is being clouded at this moment by the overwhelming sense of irrational jealousy. This feeling was unknown to Sunghoon, he had prided himself in being nothing if not rational in all aspects of his life.  As he found himself walking up the stairs towards his bedroom for a moment of quiet, Sunghoon realized he would have to make a very complicated decision. He would either have to push you away or finally admit the harsh truth that his feelings towards you are anything but casual. Unfortunately for him, he was not prepared to do either. 

Whilst Sunghoon underwent a mild internal crisis just up the stairs, you were still in the kitchen with Julie who was currently building up some colorful concoction consisting of multiple different kinds of liquor and juices. “You know I thought I saw a bowl of jungle juice in the living room, you could’ve just grabbed some of that instead of whatever this is?” Your nose scrunches up as the strong scent of alcohol exudes from Julie’s so called expertise. 

She only shakes her head at you, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Here, try some.” She stirs up both drinks with a bright pink straw before handing you the disposable cup. The liquid nearly reached the brim which only caused a shiver to run down your spine. Deciding at that moment that you probably were going to need the liquid courage to survive the night you only slightly hesitated before bringing your lips to the cup and chugging down a large gulp. 

The liquor burned your throat and the sweetness of the juices only caused your stomach to groan in a disagreeing manner. There was no way you were finishing the entire cup but you smiled up at Julie nonetheless. The older girl smirked at you before taking a sip of her own drink. The way her eyes squeezed shut at the taste told you exactly what you already knew. Julie did not know jack shit about mixing drinks but who were you to tell her that. 

“Okay, now that you have alcohol in your system you can tell me what the hell that was about with the guys?” Her eyes squint at you as she purses her lips waiting for a response. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You feel your shoulders shrug and your hand brings the questionable cocktail back towards your lips to avoid answering her question. In reality you knew exactly what she was talking about of course, you had acted differently tonight and it was all because of him. It was slightly embarrassing realizing the effect he has on you, how you never would have acted that way if it weren’t for him. Heeseung was your friend and sure you teased him every now and then but openly trying to flirt with him just to get a reaction out of his friend was a new low. Part of you felt guilty, but another more shallow part of you is still riding the high of the pure look of jealousy on Sunghoons face. It was good to know you had an effect on him as well. No matter how crazy he drives you, you could rest easy knowing it was not just your emotions getting the better of you. 

In the moment you hadn’t realized how strange your actions may have seemed to the people around you, you had only wanted to get under his skin in the only way you knew how. Sunghoon was an athlete therefore being competitive is in his nature so what better way to show him what he’s missing than introducing him to his “competition.” 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t play dumb it doesn’t suit you. Acting flirty with Heeseung? Teasing Sunghoon?” She raises an eyebrow at you with surely hundreds of assumptions circling around her head. 

“I wasn’t flirting or teasing anyone, I was just joking around.” Hoping your nonchalance would shut the subject down, you’re quick to shrug and spin on your heels to walk back towards the living room but of course Julie is following right behind. She quickly steps to the side before stepping right in front of you, the two of you stood frozen in the middle of the hallway but no one seems to notice the death glare she’s throwing your way with her hand on her hip. 

“Y/n, don’t insult me by lying to me. What was that? I thought you hated Sunghoon but you were acting like you wanted to get a reaction out of him. Don’t play, you know I know you too well.” Poor Julie doesn’t realize how ironic her words sound to you. Julie knew you better than anyone but even she didn’t know the secret you’ve been dragging around with you for the past three months. 

“I do hate him, I can’t stand the man. Let's not forget who forced me to come tonight so forgive me for trying to find some entertainment while I’m here.” Once again you try to squeeze past her through the tight hallway. You end up back in the living room spotting the guys all scattered around now. 

“You’re acting weird, but I’ll drop it for now.” The two of you are quick to have a seat on a loveseat and fall into an easy conversation with Jake and Jungwon. The minutes pass and Sunghoon is nowhere to be found which only causes even more annoyance, you haven’t seen him all week and while you enjoy the peace without his bickering you would rather have him teasing you than not have him here at all. Before you can dwell on it too long, you hear the song change into one of your favorites and suddenly Julie is pulling you and the guys up to dance together and you don’t even have to fake the smile on your face when you do so.

Sunghoon doesn’t realize how long it had been before he decided to make his way back down the stairs to rejoin the party. However as soon as his foot landed on the last step his eyes found you, dancing in the middle of the living room. You were swaying your hips with Julie right behind you. Honestly you were practically grinding on your friend which didn’t bother Sunghoon, what bothered him was the way Jake was watching you. Sunghoon watched with heat in his eyes as you made eye contact with Jake and smiled at him. Suddenly that irrational jealousy he had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to dissolve was shooting right back up to the surface. The athlete wasn’t thinking clearly when he decided to do a 180 back to his room all whilst pulling out his phone. His fingers were typing away before he could stop himself and soon enough he had hit send and there was no going back. The message sitting within that blue bubble haunted him, it was too late now so he once again fails to stop himself from sending a second text just for good measure. 

The first message had gone unnoticed by you, the ding was nearly silent compared to the loud music blaring throughout the living room. Now the second message was a bit clearer since it came through as soon as the song was starting to end. 

DNI

Come upstairs

DNI

Now.

You’d be lying if you said the message didn’t bring a shiver down your spine, after all you were just a girl and a weak one at that because without even realizing it you found yourself inching towards the staircase. Julie was too busy dancing with Jake and a few others who had joined in to notice your leave. This was risky, the two of you had never met up like this with all your friends around and it was filling you with an alarming amount of excitement. The thought was unfortunately not enough to stop you from quickly making your way up the stairs without a lick of hesitation in your step. With the amount of times you had snuck in here while the others were gone or sleeping you knew exactly where you were going. 

For a moment you considered knocking on his bedroom door but the impatience bubbling within you wouldn’t allow such a thing so with your hand wrapped around the door knob you push his bedroom door open before sliding inside and shutting it behind you. You pause then with your back resting against the door. Sunghoon was sitting on the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees. His right leg was bouncing impatiently and you could tell how angrily he clenched his jaw from where you stood. 

“Lock it.” Is all he says without bothering to look up at you, his eyes are trained on the wall in front of him. You don’t hesitate to follow his order, turning the lock over and not daring to do anything else. Sunghoon smirks as soon as he hears the click of the lock. You always were so good at following orders when it was just the two of you, but why is it that in front of everyone else you just had to be such a brat? 

You blink and suddenly Sunghoon is standing up and walking towards you. He towers over you now to which you have to crane your neck to make eye contact with him. His right hand comes up to wrap around your exposed throat, not squeezing you but putting just enough pressure to make you aware that he could if he wanted to. His other hand reaches down to toy with the hem of your mini skirt, the material scrunches at his touch and he can’t help but scoff. The air around you was so tense but it was the look in Sunghoon’s eyes that made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. His gaze was burning through you and setting you aflame but you couldn’t look away, couldn’t push him away. Not like you wanted to anyway.

“Did you have fun down there? Flirting with Heeseung, dancing with Jake? Are you that much of a slut that you turn to my friends when I don’t give you attention?” His voice finally breaks the silence between you. His cruel words should have angered you but you nearly had to hold back a whine in response. The universe was so unfair presenting you with this insufferable man and then make it impossible for you to resist him. 

“I asked you a question, angel.” His voice is barely above a whisper but yet it startles you. In the short moment you found yourself losing your composure, Sunghoon had managed to lean down closer to you. His lips were a breath away from the skin of your jaw. 

You could tell he wasn’t playing around anymore with the way his grip on your throat tightened and the hand previously toying with the material of your skirt drifted upwards to grab at your waist instead. There was a choice to be made here. You could either answer his question in earnest or provoke him and since you knew very well Sunghoon already considered you a brat, why not push the agenda even further. 

“If you don’t give me attention someone else will, Sunghoon. Whether or not that happens to be a friend of yours is none of my concern.” You force your eyes to bore into his despite the nerves running down your spine. His jaw clicks, clenches and unclenches before he forces your head up even further, stretching your neck up the entire way as he leans down to drag his lips down your neck, not quite kissing you yet. He inhales your scents and sighs against your skin. 

“I’m sure they’d jump at the chance but you don’t want their attention, do you baby? No, your body craves me, doesn’t it?” His eyes travel down the length of your trembling figure and a scoff pushes past his lips at the sight, “I mean you’re practically shaking and I haven’t even touched you yet.” 

“Call it pent up sexual frustration after being ignored for a week.” You counter with an attempt to stabilize yourself. Sunghoon arches an eyebrow at you in disbelief. 

“I wasn’t ignoring you, brat. You know I was busy with practice and don’t act like you haven’t been touching yourself all week to the thought of me.” He pulls away from your neck only to push you even further up against the door and press his body against yours. The contact of his skin on yours brought a wave of heat all the way down to your core. It should be concerning how much your body yearned for him but you weren’t prepared to deal with that revelation. 

“How would I know that if you never told me? One text would have been enough but I didn’t hear from you at all for a week and instead I had to hear it from Sunoo.” His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion for just a moment before he masks it. 

“What does it matter who you heard it from, you knew I was busy.” His words light a different kind of fire within you now. The anger rises before you have a chance to stop it.

“You are such an asshole. Of course it matters, I should have heard it from you. All you had to do was tell me you were going to be busy this week but instead you ghost me for a week and then you throw this party and you act like a dick.” 

This time Sunghoon doesn’t bother hiding his confusion, he backs away slightly and the hand on your throat loosens. “I don’t have to do anything, last I checked I’m not your fucking boyfriend, Y/n.” His head tilts to examine your reaction. 

Your eyes widen in surprise before squinting back into a glare and you nod up at him lifting your arms up to push him away. “You’re absolutely right you aren’t my boyfriend nor do you want to be as you have made perfectly clear. Luckily for me there’s at least ten guys right downstairs who would kill to be, including your best friends.” 

Once you force Sunghoon back you turn to unlock the door and leave the room but of course Sunghoon wasn’t about to let you leave after saying something like that. You barely have the chance to twist the lock before he pulls you away from the door completely. He turns to step in front of you, his hands finding purchase in the same place they were before. His hand on your waist guides you to walk backwards towards his bed as the hand on your throat inches upwards to squeeze at your jaw instead. 

“Don’t be stupid, what did I just tell you? You and I both know you don’t want anybody downstairs, you don’t want anyone else.” His words come out almost as a growl whilst his eyes were burning into you so fiercely you almost couldn’t recognize him. 

“What do you want, Sunghoon?” The question forced its way out of your mouth before you could stop it. Sunghoon glares down at you, his eyes erratically jumping across your features not fully deciding where to focus.

“Fuck.” He lets go of you then and brings his hands up to grip at his hair, pushing his hair back out of his face. “You’re no good for me. I can’t think straight around you, you’re fucking with my head and I can’t stop it. I don’t want to stop it because I want you.” He steps up to you again this time bringing both of his hands to cup your jaw. “What are you doing to me?” His pleading eyes search your face for an answer. 

You can’t help the shock that crosses your features at his confession. Your hands hesitantly lift to rest over his own on your jaw, you caress the back of his hands with your thumbs as you look up at him, the anger within you dying down if only slightly to look up at him adoringly rather than scorchingly like before. 

“Same thing that you’re doing to me. I’ve never known you to be a coward, Hoonie. Tell me what you want.” It’s barely above a whisper but to Sunghoon you might as well have shouted it. The words slammed into his chest so intensely he almost leaned back in response. He shuts his eyes for only a moment before responding to you. 

“I want you. I want you so bad it scares me, I’ve never felt this way before. I can’t focus because all I do is think about you. This week was so important for my athletic career but the only reason my practices kept running late was because I kept fucking up thinking about you, I was so distracted that I was making stupid little mistakes. I thought staying away from you would help but I only grew more frustrated. I don’t just want you, I need you, I crave you so bad I don’t think it’s healthy. Fuck I’ve never-” He cuts himself off by looking down at his feet with his eyebrows knitting together in frustration. 

“I don’t know what to do with how I feel.” He admits after a moment and his eyes find yours again in the darkness of his dimly lit bedroom. You were aware that before you got involved with Sunghoon, he had never really had a girlfriend. Growing up the guys always referred to him as the romantic type, Heeseung would even tease him that he would be the first to get married but once they hit college it seemed all Sunghoon would allow himself to indulge in were casual hookups. It didn’t happen very often, you knew of only two other girls that the boys had brought up, both which Sunghoon hooked up with casually a few times before cutting it off. From what you heard they didn’t last longer than a couple weeks. You knew you weren’t crazy for thinking things were different between you two, there was something else here stronger than the “casual” title you liked to convince yourselves described your situation. 

“You talk to me like an adult, Sunghoon. You tell me how you feel honestly and you don’t push me away when you get scared, I’m scared too, ok?” You pause to allow him a moment to take that in, he nods and breathes in all while relishing in the feeling of your hands still over his own. He wonders to himself if your touch has always brought him this much comfort. 

“But, for now, you can start by kissing me and showing me exactly how much you missed me this week.” A grin lifts the corners of your lips at the sight of Sunghoon’s eyes widening in surprise. He wasn’t expecting your forgiveness tonight, he didn’t think he deserved it, didn’t think he deserved you but he wasn’t about to let this chance pass him by so he decided to earn your forgiveness in the best way he knew how. 

His grip on your jaw tightened and he didn’t hesitate before bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft at first full of so much emotion and desire that it made you feel all weak in the knees, you would have surely collapsed if it weren’t for his hold on your jaw. His lips were so soft against yours you never wanted it to end but when the kiss evolved into something hungrier you wouldn’t be caught dead complaining with the way his hands traveled down to your waist squeezing you so tightly as if he was afraid you’d disappear otherwise. He sucked at your lips before pushing his tongue into your mouth, it was intoxicating, he was intoxicating. Your own hands found their way around his neck to pull at his hair as he pulled you closer into his body to feel exactly how much he wanted you. The prominent bulge in his pants mirrored your own arousal if the slickness pooling in your underwear was anything to go off of. Sunghoon caught the way you squeezed your thighs together and he had to hold back a groan at the sight. 

“Oh baby, let me take care of you, please. Let me show you how sorry I am, please angel, let me make you feel good.” He was practically begging which only added to your arousal as you felt yourself growing wetter. You granted him permission with a soft nod but that wasn’t enough for him, despite literally begging to satisfy you, he had to make it known he was still in control. 

“Use your words, angel.” He whispered against your lips waiting for an answer. You mutter a ‘yes’ which is when Sunghoon allows himself to kiss you again. His right hand finds your throat again and he pushes your head back softly exposing more of your neck to him. “You’re so gorgeous, fuck.” You’re not allowed a moment to answer before his lips latch onto your neck. The way he kisses and sucks at your skin pulls a whine from deep within you, at this point you had no shame in showing him exactly how needy you were for him as if he didn’t know it already. His other hand that was previously on your waist traveled to grab at your ass, groping and caressing as he saw fit.

“Sunghoon please.” The whines escaping past your lips only encourage Sunghoon to continue to tease you, kissing and sucking and biting at your throat roughly enough that he was sure he’d leave marks but he didn’t care anymore. He lifted up to kiss your lips once more before he pulled away slowly. The sight of Sunghoon falling to his knees before you was not one you were unfamiliar with but tonight was different, the way his eyes never left yours as he lowered himself onto his knees ignited you and you don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before. There was something vulnerable in his gaze as though he was giving you much more than what it seems right now. 

Once on the floor he trails his fingers up to pull your skirt and underwear down your legs in one go. You lift your legs one at a time so he can fully remove the clothing before taking a seat on the edge of his bed still with your legs closed. Sunghoon rests his hands on thighs and presses a kiss on your knees before softly pushing your legs open and pulling you even closer to the edge of the bed so he was facing your bare glistening cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, angel.” He presses a kiss on the inside of your thighs before biting at the skin of your inner thigh. With a smirk he leaned closer to where you needed him most before blowing softly onto your pussy causing you to groan out before leaning back on your elbows to watch him. 

“Hoonie, please please.” You begged with frustration dripping from your tone. You needed him so bad you were convinced if he didn’t do something soon you would explode. 

“Please what, angel?” He teased whilst pressing another kiss on your inner thigh. “Fuck, please I need your mouth.” The smirk on his lips only grew at your words, “You need my mouth? Where, angel? Here?” He brought his lips back to your thighs, kissing and sucking at your skin to which you groaned. 

“Need your mouth on my cunt, Hoonie.” You squealed out before grabbing the back of his head and pushing him towards your dripping center. He chuckled but didn’t stop you after all he was supposed to be the one grovelling for your forgiveness not the other way around. The relief you felt as he licked a stripe up your cunt was instant and so prominent that you couldn’t stop the loud needy moan that came out of you just from one touch. Sunghoons hand gripped your thighs tightly as he dived into your sweetness, he was like a man starved licking and sucking to swallow as much of your taste as he could. His tongue trailed up to circle you clit before pressing against it entirely, relishing in the way your entire body shook in response. 

“This pretty pussy missed me, huh? Fuck I missed your taste too, baby. The sweetest pussy, made just for me.” He groaned into your cunt, sucking your clit harshly into his mouth. You were moaning so loudly and shamelessly if it weren’t for the loud music from the party downstairs you were sure everyone in the house would hear exactly how good Sunghoon was making you feel. 

You don’t even realize him taking two of his fingers to circle your hole as he licks at your clit. It doesn’t take long for his cold fingers to be coated in your arousal making it entirely too easy for him to slip two fingers inside of you. The action causes a moan from both of you, Sunghoon pulled away from your clit to admire how easily his fingers slid in and out of you whilst you were so pleased to finally be filled by something other than your own fingers. Sunghoon’s fingers always felt so much better, being longer and thicker than your own made it so easy for him to find that spot that made you see stars, a spot he was currently making sure to hit with each thrust. 

“That’s my girl, squeezing around my fingers so tight, fuck. I need you squeezing my cock like that, okay?” He groans as he lifts his free hand to slide underneath your shirt and squeeze at your breasts. You nod along to his words before moaning again, “Yes, yes, I need your cock please fuck me. Want to cum on your cock, Hoonie.” Your eyes squeeze shut as you feel your lower stomach begin to tighten. 

Sunghoon smiled at the sight as he thrusted his fingers into you at a faster pace. “You will, baby, but first I need you to cum on my fingers. Can you do that for me?” He brought his lips back down to your clit, licking and sucking just right all while his long fingers continue to hit that spongy part inside you. The moan you released at the action was so erotic and breathy Sunghoon couldn’t stop himself from lowering the hand previously groping your tits down to press against his throbbing hard on. 

He felt you clench around his fingers as you arched your back toward him letting him know you were close. “Come on baby, cum on my fingers like a good girl.” He mumbles against your clit before going back to sucking at it vigorously until he felt your walls squeeze his fingers so tightly he was convinced they would break off. You felt your orgasm crash through you before you could say anything, you cum with a moan of his name, pulling at his hair whilst he continues to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a slower place allowing you time to ride out your orgasm. You hadn’t even noticed the way your hips practically grinded against his face on their own until you felt his nose hit your clit in a way that had you shaking with over stimulation. “That’s my good girl, fuck you taste so good for me, angel. You did so well.” He praises all whilst still pressing kisses on your clit and on your thighs before pulling his fingers out of and sucking them into his mouth all while keeping his eyes on yours. You let out another moan at the sight. He lifts himself up off the floor and you take the hint to move back to allow him room on the bed with you. 

His hand grasps the back of your neck and pulls your head until he’s hovering right above you. His thumb presses against your lips which you part instantly for him. Now understanding what he wants, you lean your head further back and stick your tongue out for him to spit into your mouth, a mix of his saliva and your release drips onto your tongue as you moan. “My good girl, you see how good you taste, see why I can’t get enough?” You nod along to his words despite barely being able to comprehend anything post orgasm right now. 

“I need to be inside you, baby. Need to feel you around my dick.” You aren’t sure if he’s expecting a response or just talking to himself but either way you’re not given the chance to react before Sunghoon lifts you and moves you to lay on your back on the bed and hovers above you. His lips connect with yours again and on instinct your legs wrap around his waist already grinding your hips upwards. “Fuck, needy baby, one wasn’t enough you grinding on me for another? I love it, I’ll give you what you need.” In a flash he lifts his shirt over his head, yours following right after. He takes a moment to admire the pretty bra he knows you put on just for him but it’s not long before it ends up on the floor as well so he can finally suck one of your nipples into his mouth whilst his other hand toys with the other. His hips grind down into your bare cunt all on their own, he could care less for the wet mess the action leaves on his pants. 

“Sunghoon, please I can’t take it anymore. I need you inside me, I want to feel you.” Your hands grab at his head to bring him back up to your lips, pulling his lips to kiss yours as your hands lower to unzip his pants and push them down to which he doesn’t hesitate to help you do. He gets up momentarily to pull his pants and briefs off and grabs a condom from his nightstand. 

His body is back on top of yours before you know it, his fist wrapping around the base of his cock to angle it towards your cunt. He drags his mushroom tip up and down your folds to coat it in your slick. He groans at the feeling and you respond similarly while arching your back and grinding your hips against him. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you feel his tip press against your hole before pushing in. Both of you sigh at the feeling of being connected in such a way. 

Sunghoon hides his face in the space where your neck meets your shoulder, kissing and biting at the skin there as he feels your walls clenching around him. You felt so warm and tight he had to hold back before he came right then. Your legs wrapped around him and your left hand pulled at his hair whilst the other squeezed around his bicep. You moaned right into his ear once he pulled out just slightly only to thrust back in slowly. Sunghoon all but hissed at the feeling as he began thrusting into you at a pace both of you seemed to enjoy if your sounds of pleasure were anything to go by. 

“Shit, I’ve missed this, missed you.” He groans into your ear which sends shivers down your spine. “Hoonie, harder please.” You squeeze your eyes shut at the request, relishing in the feeling of being so full. 

“I’ve got you, baby. Fuck this pussy was made for me, you were made for me.” His thrusts grow harder and faster which rips a moan from your chest and brings a grin to his lips. His hips are now slamming into you and Sunghoon drags himself down to kiss and lick down your chest until he reaches your tits again. “Feels so good, Hoonie.” Your words are just barely understandable but Sunghoon nods along in agreement anyway. 

“I know, baby, I know.” His right hand drops down so he can circle your clit with his thumb, only increasing your already growing pleasure and pushing you towards that all too familiar edge. His hips snap against you at an unthinkable pace and with the way he plays with your clit at a matching speed you just barely have enough time to warn Sunghoon before you feel the beginnings of your orgasm. 

“Hoon…nh-I’m coming.” You open your eyes as you feel him pull away from your neck only to look deep into your eyes, “Come for me, angel. I need to feel you, shit.” He witnesses the moment you begin to orgasm as he watches your pretty mouth form an O shape as your eyebrows furrowed together. You always looked so beautiful when you orgasmed but tonight was different, just the sight alone was enough to push Sunghoon over the edge and before he could stop himself he felt his thrusts grow sloppy as he released into the condom. He groaned out as he continued to thrust slowly to allow both of you time to come down. 

The exhaustion hits him without him even realizing it. His body collapses against yours, not bothering to pull out of you as he gets comfortable just laying with you. As though it was normal for you, your hands wrapped around him and you smoothed out the hair on the back of his head hearing him sighing in content at the feeling. 

“I like this. I could fall asleep like this every night.” He whispers into your neck before pressing a tender kiss there. You smile at his confession beginning to like this new side of Sunghoon he had hidden from you before. 

“Like inside me?” You teased with a playful laugh. He groans but it morphs into a laugh midway. “That’s not what I mean but if you’re offering I won’t refuse.” The two of you giggle into each other at your banter before it grows into a calming silence again.

“I know what you meant. I like it too.” You can feel him smile against your skin which brings a blush to your cheeks. The two of you spend a few minutes just laying there in each other's hold enjoying the calm silence and each other's presence. However you knew you couldn’t stay there for the rest of the night, the bass of the music downstairs was an unfortunate reminder of why you were here in the first place. Your nails scratch at his back to softly get his attention. 

“Hoonie, we’re going to have to get up now.” He shakes his head in response, mumbling something unintelligible into your neck. “I know, I don’t want to move either but this party is for you and I’m sure we’ve already been gone long enough for it to be considered suspicious.” 

“I don’t care.” His hold on you tightens. “Baby, if we go back out there I can let Julie know to go home without me so I can spend the night here, deal?” That gets his attention as he immediately rises up and presses a kiss to your lips, “Deal.” He softly pulls his now softened dick out of you, hissing at the feeling. 

“Fuck, let me clean you up baby.” He gets up to grab some wipes before cleaning you up in such a caring manner you would have never thought he was capable of. “Uh, I think you might have to wash your makeup off.” He sheepishly smiled at the sight of your runny mascara and smudged lipstick. 

You groan as Sunghoon guides you to his private bathroom for you to see the damage. Sure enough, Sunghoon was right, there was no way you could go back downstairs like this so you wash your face and decide to go without makeup for the rest of the party. The two of you get dressed pretty quickly and whilst doing so you decided to not say anything to your friends tonight, although they would probably figure it out on their own you don’t want to say anything to bring too much attention to the two of you tonight especially since it wasn’t just your friend group at this party tonight. Therefore, you agreed to walk back downstairs first with Sunghoon following behind you a few minutes later. 

Sunghoon steps in front of you to open his bedroom door, once he finds the hall is empty he opens the door a bit more allowing you room to step out but not before he pulls you in for another kiss. 

“Oh shit.” The two of you jump apart at the sound of another voice quickly turning to find Heeseung stepping out of his own bedroom that was right across the hall with an unlit blunt between his lips. 

“Oh..” There goes your plan to keep things a secret for just a little while longer. 

“Hey hyung look, we can-” Sunghoon starts only to be interrupted by his older friend. 

“I knew it! Damn, Jake owes me a twenty for this, this is a great night.” He grins before shutting his bedroom door and making his way down the stairs as though nothing happened. 

“Um, what just happened?” You tilt your head up to look at Sunghoon who seemed equally as confused.

“Well, clearly our friends bet on us. I don’t know how to feel about that.” A small grin paints itself on his lips once his eyes find yours and you can’t help but smile back at him. 

“Come on, we gotta do damage control now before the entire house hears about this.” Sunghoon follows behind you without a hint of hesitation although at this point he could care less if everyone at this party knew about the two of you. Actually, Sunghoon thinks he would prefer it that way.