#THE WAY I HAD TO FIX THE TYPO THIS IS HUMILIATING

[ikosburneraccount]

imagine being the crown prince of a country and the girl you like won't even go out with you.

[marvelmusing]

Hate Loving You

Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: Working for Aleksander and Alina Morozova drives you to insanity and beyond. No one has ever made you feel so frustrated, embarrassed, and unbelievably aroused. Officially you’re their personal driver, but you know deep down that you’re actually just their favourite plaything.

Warnings [18+]: smut, minor angst, uneven power dynamic, the consent isn’t explicit but it’s there, spanking, pain kink, breast play, humiliation, degradation, praise kink, sir/ma’am kink, sadistic!darklina, free use vibes, masturbation, sex toys, sharing of explicit photos & videos, sexting, exhibitionism, fingering/double penetration combo (fingering with two people’s fingers), choking, bondage, dacryphilia, hair pulling, spitting, car sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, size kink, darklina are what I’m deciding to call ‘deliciously awful’ in this AU. If I’ve missed anything let me know.

@becauseicantthinkwritings <- chelsea, your tag as requested, enjoy x

A/N: there is most definitely typos in this fic, but it’s way too long for me to do a full proof read at the moment so I’ll probably fix those later

My Masterlist

Aleksander Morozova is one of the most insufferable men you’ve ever met. He’s cold and curt and there’s a dark glimmer in his eyes whenever someone else experiences humiliation or disgrace. His wife isn’t any better. Alina Morozova’s words are always sharp, her smirk ever present and your skin crawls whenever her attention lingers on you.

They are both ridiculously attractive, but it doesn’t make working for the couple any more bearable. If anything - it makes it worse. As their personal driver, you’re at their beck and call every hour of the day.

Aleksander owns his own luxury car business, working as both the CEO and lead designer. As a result, the entire contents of their home garage is Morozova cars. It pains you to admit it, but his cars are the nicest you’ve ever driven.

They are both borderline arrogant about their riches, utterly confident in their status as one of Ravka’s wealthiest couples. The way Aleksander looks down at you makes you burn from the inside. Alina always traces her hand over your shoulder as she climbs out of the car, perfectly manicured nails scraping over your clothing. She tosses her car keys deliberately to the side of you, so that you have to bend down to retrieve them.

The two of them are particularly fond of car sex, a discovery you had made during your first week working for them.

“Sasha, please, I want your cock in me,” Alina pleads quietly, her voice breathy as she grinds down on her husband’s lap.

Heart pounding, you slowly inch your finger towards the button that will lift the screen between where you’re sitting at the wheel and where the two of them are kissing passionately on the back seat of the car. There’s a low mechanic hum as the screen begins to rise and you flinch at the sound.

Subconsciously, you glance up at the rearview mirror, meeting the intense gaze of both Aleksander and Alina.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” he asks sharply. Words fade on the tip of your tongue as you struggle to gather up an explanation.

“I was- I was just going to give you some privacy, sir.”

“Did we ask for such a thing?”

“Well, no, but I thought-” He clicks his tongue at you disapprovingly.

“Don’t think. Keep your eyes on the road.”

He had then preceded to fuck his wife slowly, easing Alina onto his cock, and you had seen every second of it in the tiny mirror above your head. Her dark eyes widening at the stretch of him pushing into her cunt. Her brows creasing as he thumbed at her sensitive clit. Her plush lips parting as she gasped and moaned.

The sound of her whining for more, the slap of skin against skin, and the lewd sloppiness gathering between her thighs now lives in the back of your mind. Every time you attempt to touch yourself, a heavy breath or the sound of your slick-covered fingers will have your mind falling back onto Alina and Aleksander.

At first you had resisted these thoughts. Pushing away the idea of Aleksander fucking you against the hood his car, or Alina sucking hard on your clit with the intention of making you squirt over the backseat of her car. None of their drivers had ever been allowed in their house, but occasionally the thought of being in their bed crosses your mind as a moment of indulgence.

The desire you feel around them doesn’t often distract you while working, since their behaviour usually manages to taper any arousal that might arise in you.

“What are you doing here?” Aleksander asks. There’s no care or even curiosity in his voice - only what sounds like a mixture of boredom and annoyance.

A frown creases at your brows as you turn to watch him walk through his garage, Alina close behind him. They’re both dressed for dinner - Aleksander’s usual black suit and tie and a low cut dress of deep midnight blue for Alina. The click of her heels echoes over smooth concrete.

“You called for me.”

The corner of Aleksander’s mouth twitches as he rounds one of his cars, the lights flashing as he unlocks the vehicle.

“And like a little puppy, you came for us.”

There’s something warm yet mocking in his voice and Alina laughs while your cheeks burn with embarrassment. She grins at the sight of you so flushed and frustrated - once again they’ve ruined your night by calling you in only to dismiss you once you arrive.

“We won’t be needing you tonight,” she informs you, shooting her husband a grin as she slips into the car.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Right now, frustration is crawling under your skin, your fingers drumming against the steering wheel as you wait for the traffic ahead of you to move. Alina giggles from the backseat and the muscle in your jaw tightens. The sound of lips meeting makes something sharp stir in your stomach and you fight the urge to look in the rearview mirror.

Aleksander and Alina have a guest with them.

Zoya Nazyalensky. A tight silver dress clinging to her every curve, bronze thighs on display as the fabric slides upwards. Alina’s hand is settled on her legs, gliding upwards as they kiss. Aleksander grips the back of Zoya’s neck, fingers threading through her dark locks as he takes control of the kiss between her and his wife.

As much as you had fantasised about it late at night, you hadn’t even considered the fact that the couple might want to bring another person into their bed. The fact that they had picked someone as alluring as Zoya has your stomach sinking.

Alina moans softly and you press your knees together. It doesn’t help that you had been on a date when they had called for you to drive them home - meaning you’re not wearing your usual work attire. The bare skin of your thighs brush together and sparks thrum up to your cunt at the barest hint of contact. The date hadn’t been going particularly well, but you had still been hoping to take the girl home for some fun.

Instead, you’re working, listening to Aleksander and Alina enjoy the company of another person - a person who isn’t you. Not that you stand much of a chance, competing with someone like Zoya. A silly sense of disappointment settles in your chest.

Red lights catch the corner of your vision. It’s barely even a conscious thought, your foot landing heavily on the break pedal. There’s a halt in the low conversation and soft giggles that had been occurring in the backseat. The ringing in your ears echoes in the silence as you wait for the lights to change.

Aleksander murmurs something to Zoya and Alina laughs. Too busy trying to focus on the road and calm your pounding heart, you can’t work out what any of them are saying - though you aren’t sure you want to hear them.

When you arrive at Zoya’s house, the three of them climb out of the car as you expected. But what you hadn’t expected was for Aleksander to reach around your seat and place a firm hand on your shoulder. You know he feels you startle at the contact.

“Keep the car running for us.”

Alina’s hands wander as she bids Zoya a good night, and stupid, shameful tears burn in the back of your eyes as you watch them in the wing mirror of the car. Aleksander takes Zoya’s chin between his fingers, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips and you force yourself to look away.

The drive to Aleksander and Alina’s house is mostly silent. The two of them exchange knowing looks that have nerves coursing beneath your skin. On several occasions, you catch Alina watching you with a smirk that makes you shiver. Aleksander seems as composed as ever, though there’s a glint in his eyes whenever he manages to hold your gaze.

The silence continues as you arrive at their front gates and as you drive into their large garage. They both get out first and you sit in the empty car for a moment to compose yourself. When you manage to gain enough courage to get out, you find the two of them waiting for you.

No words are exchanged as you walk by them both, heading towards your own car at the very end of the garage. The weight of their combined gaze makes you shiver. Aleksander’s voice is dark as he speaks in a low tone.

“You were sloppy tonight.”

The bottom of your stomach sinks and your footsteps halt.

“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“No. It won’t.” His response makes you look at him. “Lift your skirt up.”

Bafflement splays itself over your features as you turn your head to look at them both, blinking at his request. Embarrassment burns through your body when you remember you aren’t wearing any panties.

Warmth spreads over your cheeks as you do as he says, the cool air meeting your bare skin. At the sight of your bare lower half, Alina wolf-whistles lowly, a wide grin tugging at her lips, and your gaze drops to the concrete.

“Turn around,” Aleksander orders.

Vulnerability prickles over your skin as you turn, giving your back to Aleksander.

“Sir-”

“Bend over.”

“What?”

He places his hand on the nape of your neck, squeezing firmly and the force of his hand on your body has you tensing as your body submits to him.

“Bend over.”

He smacks your ass hard and a startled whimper escapes from the back of your throat. He does it again, a sharp sting burning over your skin in the wake of his hand. The metal ring on his smallest finger bites into your skin and a shudder rolls down your spine. Tears gather in your eyes, humiliation and desperate arousal filling your entire body, and the skin tingles from the impact of his hand as he hits you again.

He spreads your cheeks, pinching the flushed skin as he inspects the glistening slick gathered between your folds. With your cunt exposed, he lands another smack to your most sensitive area, his fingertips a hairsbreadth away from your clit and a wretched noise startles itself from deep in your chest.

“Please, sir,” you whine. They both laugh.

Shameful arousal pools in your stomach, embarrassment prickling over your skin as you shift your thighs together to relieve the ache in your core - earning yourself another smack from Aleksander. A broken moan reverberates in your throat and Alina sighs softly.

Glancing up at her, you see she’s leaning against the hood of her car, hands wandering over her bare thighs, fingers brushing gently against smooth skin and you swallow hard at the sight of her. There’s a dark, knowing glimmer in her eyes, mirth filling her expression and your cunt throbs almost painfully. Her ankles cross lightly, pristine heels side by side as she lifts her chin up to stare at you.

Aleksander continues spanking you, his large palms landing flat against your ass cheeks. He changes the speed and force regularly, never allowing you a moment to adjust to the rhythm.

Some of his smacks sting, pain prickling over your skin and dancing down the length of your legs, whilst others thud, jostling your entire body as pleasure rockets up your spine. His other hand holds a fistful of your hair, keeping your head up so that Alina can watch your expression change with each strike of his hand.

Tears drip down your face, splashing onto the smooth grey concrete beneath you and desperation heaves at your shoulders. Over the past week, they’ve kept you working so much that you’ve had no time to pleasure yourself - too exhausted after work to gather the necessary energy. As a result, shameful arousal now glosses over your thighs.

“What would you do if we left you like this?” Aleksander asks cruelly, and you feel the weight of his gaze on your poor, neglected little cunt. Whatever brittle dignity you have left, it snaps in your chest and you beg hurriedly in a broken whimper,

“Please don’t.”

Alina laughs and you squeeze your eyes shut. The sound of her heels clicking over concrete has arousal and anticipation stirring in your stomach. Then she takes your chin between her fingers, pinching hard. When you make a small whimper of protest, your eyes fluttering open, she pouts mockingly at you.

She exchanges a heated look with her husband and before you can react he pulls on your hair, straightening your back so that you’re pressed flush against his body. He wraps an arm around your waist, pinning you in place while Alina tugs at the straps on your shoulders, exposing your chest for her.

She sinks her teeth into the soft underside of your breast and a sharp sob catches in your throat as your cunt clenches uncontrollably. Pleasure and pain blur together as you writhe between Aleksander and Alina. The hard heat of his clothed cock presses into your back and all control you have over yourself spirals away from you.

Alina licks over your nipple, tongue tracing the bite marks left blooming on your skin and your heart pounds wildly as a familiar breathlessness descends. Tears spill down your face as her attention moves to your other breast. An animalistic cry shakes your body as she sucks hard on your nipple.

When her teeth nip at the hardened bud, pleasure thrums through your poor untouched cunt and your body plummets into an earth-shattering climax that takes everything from you. Sound disappears, your vision is consumed by stars and the frantic jerking of your body saps all your energy, leaving you exhausted.

Aleksander loosens his hold on you and instantly you sink onto the ground, pressing your head back against his thigh. He pets the top of your head, stroking your hair gently as Alina crouches down beside you.

“That was a big one, wasn’t it darling?” she coos softly, observing the haze in your eyes as your chest continues to heave.

“Alina,” you whisper weakly, reaching for her with shaky hands. Her expression melts somewhat, into something you’ve never seen from her before.

“Oh my lovely, were we too mean?”

There’s still an undertone of teasing as she pulls you gently into her lap. The bare skin of her thighs are smooth against your heated ass cheeks, but you whimper nevertheless at the contact. Alina wipes at the tear stains on your face.

“I hope you’ve learnt your lesson, little dove.”

“Lesson?” you repeat with widened eyes. Aleksander nods.

“About being jealous.”

Heat burns over your face as you realise how transparent you must have been this evening. Alina nudges your chin, tilting your head up to meet her gaze.

“That you’re our favourite toy to play with.”

“And that you belong to us. Only us,” he adds.

Turning to look at Aleksander, you realise that they must have heard you talking about your date with some other member of their staff. That the only reason they had called you tonight was to draw you away from your date. You’re not sure whether you should be flattered or annoyed with them.

Alina’s gaze is stern as she scours over your face, fingers squeezing at your chin.

“Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you whisper, voice faltering.

She smiles, ducking her head forward to press a kiss to your forehead and your heart flutters in your chest. Her nose nuzzles slightly against your temple and you lean closer.

“You’re dismissed for the evening.”

You blink at her, feeling her words cut into your chest.

“W- What?”

“Alina don’t be cruel,” Aleksander says warningly. But you’re already withdrawing yourself from her arms, stumbling to your feet and moving towards your car on shaky legs.

Tears blur your vision and it takes every ounce of self control you have not to cry.

“Little dove,” he calls out gently. Swallowing hard, you blink back your tears and turn to face him. He beckons, curling two fingers at you. “Come here.”

He cups your face in both his hands, fingers hooking beneath your jawline as he looks down at you. His dark eyes draw you in, sinking into the depth of his gaze that is the softest you’ve ever seen him.

“You’ve been a very good girl tonight.”

A warm blush heats at your cheeks, spreading down your neck and the only response you’re capable is a bashful whisper.

“Thank you.”

“Do you think you can drive yourself home, or shall I ask Ivan to take you?”

“I’ll be okay.”

He smiles indulgently and he looks so painfully handsome that your stomach flips at the sight of him - a stark contrast to the man who had punished you so thoroughly. His voice is a low coo, and you’re tempted to sink back down onto the ground when he says,

“Of course you will.”

The smile that tugs at the corner of your lips is shy and you can’t hold his gaze for very long, which seems to please him. He walks with you to your car, holding the door open for you to climb inside. Alina trails behind him, gaze heavy on you.

Once the door is closed behind you, he taps on the window, and you press down on the button in the door, lowering the glass for him.

“You’ll take tomorrow off.”

You can’t remember the last time they allowed you a day off that you didn’t have to grovel for.

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect you to send us proof that our punishment was effective.”

Confusion sparks in your eyes as you look between him and Alina. It only takes a moment before she elaborates with a wicked glint in her dark eyes that roam hungrily over your body.

“We want photos of Sasha’s handprints on your ass and my bite marks on your tits. You think you can do that, baby?”

Words fail you, as does oxygen momentarily. Then you swallow hard, nodding jerkily.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She grins.

Even as you begin to drive home, you feel untethered, almost disconnected from your body. It’s only once you collapse onto your sofa at home, curling in on yourself, that you begin to feel some semblance of your own self creep back into your chest. As you close your eyes, you bury your face into a cushion in an attempt at hiding from the rest of the world.

Then your doorbell chimes, shattering your delicate moment of peace with its cheery tune. With a small groan of effort, you drag yourself up towards the door.

There’s no one at the front door, only a small cardboard box on your doorstep. A frown creases at your brows as you blink at it, eyes scouring your surroundings for a clue regarding the sender. Then you spot one of Aleksander’s staff cars, and see Fedoyr and Ivan standing next to it. Ivan looks as gruff as ever, his arms crossed over his chest, while Fedoyr gives you a small wave before the two of them disappear into the vehicle.

After scooping up the box and carrying it inside, you sit down on your sofa, placing it in your lap and peering at the contents. The items you find there make you blush as you inspect each one. There’s a pair of silk panties that are undeniably Alina’s and you bite down on your lower lip as your fingers caress the smooth fabric.

There’s a slightly worn t-shirt folded carefully in the box, a soft grey material that smells like Aleksander. Beneath that is an expensive-looking bottle of body lotion. Cracking open the lid, you inhale the sweet scent and immediately recognise the fragrance - one of Alina’s favourite perfumes. It’s a subtle, and almost primal, claim on you, purposefully wrapping you in their scent.

Underneath both of these items, there’s something that flusters you even further. A vibrator - much better than any other that you own, with countless settings and long distance device pairing options.

It’s these gifts that give you the motivation to drag yourself into the shower.

The skin of your ass cheeks is slightly inflamed and sensitive, so you decide to abandon the thought of wearing any underwear to bed tonight. Instead, you gently pat your body over with a towel and head into your bedroom.

Skin flushed from the heat of your shower, you sit down on the end of your bed, and begin rubbing your new lotion over your body. The scent makes you think of Alina - her hands wandering over your form, squeezing and pinching and thoroughly exploring you.

Slipping on Aleksander’s shirt, your stomach flips as you wonder how he would react at the sight of you wearing it. There’s a dull thrum of arousal between your thighs at the thought and your mind wanders towards the vibrator still wrapped in its box.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and soon the plastic packaging and the box itself have been discarded onto the floor as you study the vibrator and accompanying instruction booklet. It’s simple enough - downloading the app and linking it to your phone. It’s only when you’re scrolling through the app settings that you notice something in particular.

Paired Devices:

- Aleksander Morozova

- Alina’s iPhone ☀️

Heat burns over your cheeks, flooding down your body, and you flick off the app as quickly as possible - as if they might catch you staring at their names.

The thought of them receiving a notification when you’re using the vibrator - and using the opportunity to take control of your pleasure whenever they want - has a peculiar sense of debased intrigue fluttering in your stomach. Knowing the two of them, it’s likely they would use this power to ruin any orgasm you might hope to experience with the toy in question.

The sight of yourself in the mirror captures your attention and you can’t help but stare at yourself. Lifting the hem of the shirt, you blink at the figure posed in the reflection. Skin bright and glossy, widened eyes admiring the wild smattering of marks blossoming over your breasts, created by Alina’s teeth.

Dragging your lower lip between your teeth, you glance at your phone, remembering Aleksander’s demand regarding the effectiveness of their punishment. The skin of your ass cheeks is still tender, slightly uncomfortable against the rough texture of your old cotton sheets.

Turning your body, you snap a few photos of your figure in the mirror, darkened bruises forming on your skin from Aleksander’s firm hand. Almost entranced by the images you’ve captured, you take a few close-ups of your breasts, focusing on the dark arches pressed into your skin by Alina’s teeth.

It’s as you’re admiring the photos that your phone buzzes with a text message.

Aleksander M: Did you receive our delivery, little dove?

You: yes

You: thank you sir

With shaky hands, you click on a selection of your favourite photos taken tonight, and press send. There’s a few seconds before the read receipt appears beneath your message and the anticipation becomes too much. Squeezing your eyes shut, you click your phone off and place it face down on your bed.

Then there’s a soft buzz.

Aleksander M: Good girl

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Sliding your hands slowly up your body, you squeeze at your breasts, groping the sensitive flesh before you grasp lightly at your nipples. Sparks of pleasure thrums beneath your skin, need gathering between your thighs as you indulge yourself.

As your eyelids flutter closed, your mind wanders to the one surefire way of increasing your arousal. Thoughts of Aleksander and Alina fade in and out of your mind - flashes of their bodies, snippets of words and the way you burn with that dizzying mixture of arousal and embarrassment whenever they humiliate you.

One hand glides up to your neck, fingers wrapping around as much as you physically can. Aleksander’s hand would be so much bigger than yours, curling around the entirety of your throat, and you know Alina would squeeze with more force than you would dare to. A low moan of desperation catches in your throat as you slowly grind your hips upwards into nothing.

Tightening your hold on your neck, your other hand is free to wander over your body, playing with your nipples like Alina would. Slowly, you trace your hand down between your breasts, thumbnail scratching a line down the length of your body. With your eyes closed, you can almost imagine the delicate sting of pain is from the claw ring Aleksander wears on his smallest finger.

Desperate for an increase in sensation, you scrape your nails down your thighs, digging into the soft, sensitive skin there. As the need begins to impair your judgement, making your head grow fuzzy, you reach for your new vibrator.

The little device hums to life in your palm and vibrations run up the length of your arm as you slide it down over your stomach, anticipation pooling between your thighs. Then the toy meets your dripping entrance.

The whine that escapes your lips is desperately pathetic and your body burns at the sound of yourself. Greedily, you press it harder against your cunt, grinding mindlessly against the toy as the vibrations shudder up your body. A delightful haze clouds over your mind, removing everything except the near primal need building inside you.

The sensation builds inside you and eager anticipation rises to meet it. Ever since Aleksander and Alina had touched you that night in their garage, you’ve been unable to reach any sort of climax. It’s only now, using the toy they had bought you, that you’re beginning to feel the kind of pleasure you’ve been craving.

Then, abruptly, the vibrations stop.

A cry of frustration heaves at your body. You had been frighteningly close to the edge. Fumbling with your phone, you check the connection between the toy and your phone.

Connected to Alina’s iPhone ☀️

The temptation to throw your phone across the room tugs at you.

Alina M: enjoying yourself, little dove?

In a moment of violent confidence, you press record, you lower your phone camera down between your legs. The video you send her in response is only a few seconds long, focusing on your soaked cunt as you purposefully clench around nothing.

Alina M: naughty girl

Alina M: are you really that desperate?

Abandoning the useless vibrator, you slide your middle finger down to your entrance, collecting the sticky arousal that you find there with your fingertip.

Alina M: you’re getting off on this, aren’t you?

Shame spills over inside you, but it’s nowhere near enough of an incentive to stop touching yourself. Especially now that you’re slick enough to begin rubbing at your clit, needy circles over the swollen nub that have you shaking.

Aleksander M: little dove

Aleksander M: what are you doing?

Aleksander M: Alina is pulling that face when she’s teasing you

Aleksander M: is your cunt all drippy and needy for us?

The thought of Aleksander and Alina sitting next to one another, pressing kisses leisurely over each other as they send teasing messages to you, has you whining through gritted teeth.

With shaky fingers and a thoroughly distracted mind, you manage to type out a reply for him.

You: yes sir

He doesn’t appear to be any less enthusiastic, despite your rather limited response.

Aleksander M: good girl

Aleksander M: are you touching yourself?

You: yes sir

Aleksander M: poor thing

Aleksander M: you must be struggling now that Alina has turned your toy off

Seeing his message - confirmation that they are both witnessing your unravelling desire - has you increasing the speed of your hand, rubbing at your cunt fiercely. The wet sound of slick smearing over your clit and fingers has heat burning across your cheeks and down your neck.

Aleksander M: don’t worry little dove

Aleksander M: all you need to do is think about Alina holding you down on your bed while I fuck your little cunt open

Aleksander M: I’m certain that will help you

He’s right. Imagining Alina lying beneath you, with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, while Aleksander pushes his cock inside you, has your cunt trembling with need.

Dropping your phone down onto the bed, you squeeze your eyes shut, rubbing vigorously at your cunt as your climax slams into you. A whimpering cry escapes from you, as your back arches away from the mattress. The muscle in your wrist cramps, but you continue your motions as your cunt twitches.

Everything is fuzzy, warm heat flickering beneath your skin has you sigh, attempting to settle your breathing. Rhythmic spasms seize your cunt as your heart continues to pound and bliss slowly winds its way through your each and every limb, filling them with a sated heaviness that has you sinking back into the mattress.

With shaky, sticky fingers you wipe the evidence of your climax over your trembling thighs before typing out a response.

You: thank you sir

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

On a typical night out with friends, you’re the designated driver - the responsible one who keeps an eye on everyone and makes sure everyone stays out of trouble. Tonight, you’ve somewhat neglected your usual duties, allowing yourself to be distracted by someone at the bar.

He seems nice enough - probably too nice for you - and he manages to hold your attention for a while, long enough for your friends to slip out of sight somewhere into the depths of the club.

Then you spot someone achingly familiar. Alina.

The moment you see her, your only thought is to catch another glimpse of her through the crowd. She’s sitting at a table in a darkened corner, tucked against her husband’s side. Aleksander’s arm is draped over the back of the leather sofa, his fingers grazing over her bare shoulder.

Alina’s dress is indecently short, and your gaze is fixed on her legs for a long moment. They seem almost glossy in the low light of the club and your transfixed at the sight of her. Her dress is skintight, giving you an ample view of her breasts pushed plump into the material.

They both stare at you unabashed. The weight of their combined gaze feels like hands over your body and you squirm in your seat, shifting your thighs together to relieve the ache that is growing in your core. The marks the two of them left on your body have almost completely faded and you can feel the absence of them.

Aleksander beckons to you and instantly you’re stumbling from your seat, bidding the man beside you a rather absent goodbye before you’re making your way through the throngs of people towards the couple.

When you finally reach the small sofa they’re sitting on, the courage you had mustered disappears and your gaze sinks to the floor. Staring down at your heels, you realise the music is much quieter here, providing a more intimate setting than the rest of the club.

“Um, hello.”

Aleksander nods faintly in greeting, taking a long pull of his drink. His features are shadowed in the low light, his eyes darkened as his gaze traces slowly down your figure.

“Good evening.”

“Having fun?” Alina asks. You shrug lightly, gaze falling again as her stare begins to unnerve you. Both of them seem to be taking advantage of your legs and cleavage on display, eyeing your body hungrily.

When you look up at her, she nods towards the man you had abandoned at the bar.

“You looked interested.”

You shake your head instantly.

“I’m not.”

Aleksander smiles indulgently.

“I told you, Alya, our little dove would be faithful.”

A frown creases at your brows, as you realise that they have been watching you - that they might have even sent that man over to talk to you. Alina hums lightly.

“I think I’d prefer some physical proof.” She holds her hand out, palm open expectantly. Confusion fills your features and she raises a dark brow at you. “Panties, darling.” She grins. “Unless you aren’t wearing any?”

After a quick glance at the small handful of people nearby, you reach beneath your dress and tug your panties down your legs before they drop onto the floor. You bend quickly, scooping them up and placing them in her waiting hand.

Alina tilts her head aside, staring at the fabric for a long moment, a wicked smile spreading over her face. Seeing your panties out in the open, for anyone to see, has shame brimming inside you. She opens up her clutch purse, dropping your panties into it. Then she reaches for you.

She pulls you into her lap, ensuring that your bare cunt is pressed against the heat of her thigh. Embarrassment warms your cheeks at the thought of the arousal already gathered between your folds, now smearing over her skin. Alina’s voice is low and dangerous as she murmurs into the shell of your ear.

“Any mess you make is getting cleaned up by your tongue. Understood?”

The thought of being forced onto your knees, in the middle of this club, to clean up your own arousal from her thigh - of being allowed to feel her skin with your tongue - has the hint of a moan creeping into the back of your throat.

“Y- yes ma’am.”

“If you draw too much attention to yourself, Aleksander will bend you over this table and give you a real spanking in front of everyone here.”

You tense in her hold. A real spanking? Meaning that what he had given you the other night hadn’t been considered a real spanking - despite it leaving you an incoherent mess on the floor of their garage. Aleksander’s laugh is velvet smooth.

“Alina, don’t scare our little dove. We don’t want her to fly away now, do we?”

They both share a wicked smile, their dark eyes glimmering with mirth, as if they know that you couldn’t leave them even if you wanted to. They would drag you back to them, kicking and screaming, and they would enjoy every second of it.

Desire thrums between your thighs as Alina’s hands toy at your breasts. She squeezes the soft flesh absentmindedly, occasionally rolling your nipples between the pads of her fingers as she talks to Aleksander. Their conversation is indecipherable to you, too consumed by arousal to focus on what they’re saying - not that they seem to be speaking to you.

They both offer you sips of their drinks, pressing chilled glass to your lips, and you’re forced to swallow the contents as they tip the liquid into your mouth. It isn’t long before you’re feeling tipsy from the concoction of alcohol given to you - and the intoxication of their presence.

Alina’s hands continue to wander over your body, though she appears to be particularly fond of your breasts. At one point, she slips the thin strap from your shoulder, pushing the fabric of your dress away from one of your breasts. The cool chill of the air stings your hardened nipple and you squirm, grinding down on her thigh. In response, she digs her nails into your skin.

A whimper catches in your throat and your head swims with a heady need that clouds over your thoughts, eliminating anything that isn’t focusing on Alina and the pleasurable pain she’s offering you. The stickiness between your thighs grows until the ache of your empty cunt is the only thing you can focus on.

If you had the tiniest bit more coherency, you might have been concerned by your lack of concerns.

“Darling,” Alina says softly, hooking a finger under your chin. “Look at that.”

She tilts your head down to look at the space between your legs, where your cunt has been leaking over her thigh. Shame prickles over your skin as you struggle to stammer out an apology for making such a mess. Her thumb circles over the heated apple of your cheek.

“Don’t worry your silly little head over it. You’re going to sit at my feet and clean up your mess like a good girl, aren’t you?”

You nod, slipping down onto the floor to nestle between her legs. The taste isn’t particularly pleasant, but you’re glad of the opportunity to feel her skin beneath your tongue. The thought of being allowed to bury your face into her wet cunt makes you moan softly.

She leans back in her seat, draping one arm over the top of the sofa. She rests the elbow of her other arm on Aleksander’s shoulder, her fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. Her nails scratch lightly at his skin and he turns to give her an adoring smile.

Even when all evidence of your arousal is gone, you continue to lick over her thigh. Glancing up at her, you decide to risk moving over to her other thigh. She grasps a fistful of your hair, yanking your head up to face them both. They both stare down at you as Alina threads her fingers through your hair.

Aleksander leans into his wife, nuzzling his nose against her cheek before he says quietly,

“I think it’s time for us to head home, Alya.”

“No, don’t,” you whine, pressing your forehead against her knee. “Please, don’t leave.”

Aleksander pets the top of your head.

“Little dove, you’ve been so good this evening. Do you really want to ruin that by being a brat, now?”

Tears fill your eyes as you shake your head, and Aleksander mimics the motion mockingly with a small pout of fake sympathy. He catches one of your tears with the pad of his thumb, eyes darkened as he observes your pitiful state. When your gaze falls onto the sizeable bulge beneath his trousers, you swallow hard.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper weakly.

“Come here.”

He holds his hands out for you to take and he helps you stand on incredibly shaky legs. Then he pushes the skirt of your dress up over your hips. His eyes flutter closed as he breathes in deeply, his nose almost directly level with your cunt.

“Little dove,” he murmurs softly. “I can practically smell how wet you are.”

He parts your folds with a delicate brush of his fingers, spreading you open with the hint of a touch that makes you whimper for more. Then he presses his fingertip against your entrance and the breath halts in your lungs. He sinks his finger inside you and your poor cunt quivers at the sensation of being filled.

Aleksander groans quietly, a deep sound that makes you shiver, your cunt tightening around the intrusion of his finger.

“Alya, come feel this.”

His words make your eyes widen, glancing over at Alina as she slides over the smooth leather seat to sit practically on her husband’s lap. She reaches between your legs, cooing demeaningly when you whine at the feeling of her finger squeezing inside you alongside Aleksander’s.

Alina curls her finger, stretching your walls as Aleksander brushes against a particularly sensitive area, and a broken moan escapes your lips. She grins at you and all you can do to escape them both is close your eyes, completely at their mercy.

“Oh Sasha,” she sighs. “She would never be able to take your cock.”

A pathetic, breathy whine of protest heaves at your body. Merely the thought of having Aleksander’s cock inside you has your cunt gripping their fingers. He smiles darkly.

“But she looks so eager for it.”

Alina laughs.

“Of course she is.”

Driven by need, you buck your hips forwards, seeking an ounce of friction for your neglected clit. A weak cry of frustration bubbles in the back of your throat when you’re unsuccessful.

Alina’s eyes are locked onto your chest, staring at your stiff nipples poking through the fabric of your cheap dress. She licks her lips, gaze flickering up to meet yours and the hunger in her expression makes you moan.

She smiles, using her other hand to circle your clit. Her smile widens when you cry out, painful pleasure sparking through your stomach as she rubs your swollen clit. After being untouched for so long, the firm pressure of her fingertip has you gasping loudly.

“What did I say about drawing attention to yourself?” she asks, her motions unfaltering and you clench around their fingers once again.

The thought of another punishment has nervous anticipation creeping over your skin. Tears bloom in the corner of your eyes and they both breathe out quiet moans, equally aroused by the sight of your tearful expression.

“Go tell your friends you’re going home.”

If your friends notice anything unusual in your expression when you speak to them, they don’t mention it.

It’s a relief that all Aleksander’s cars have black glass. The moment you reach their car, Alina is tugging you inside, pulling your dress off. The fabric drops into the footwell of the backseat, alongside your heels. Aleksander follows behind you, bending your body over his thighs. His hand squeezes at the back of your neck as his other hand lands hard against your ass cheek.

Alina strokes your hair, reaching out to squeeze at your breasts, pinching and pulling on your nipples as Aleksander continues spanking you. His strikes drive the air from your lungs, leaving you whining and desperate, your cunt clenching rapidly around nothing. The sheer memory of their fingers exploring the wet heat of your cunt has you teetering on the edge of an orgasm. Not to mention their quiet musings.

“Such a filthy girl, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Of course she is, Sasha. Look at the mess of her cunt.”

The rough fabric of his trousers graze against your exposed clit as you writhe in his lap, gasping and whimpering. Sparks of pleasure hum beneath your skin, your limbs tensing as your body scrambles towards your climax.

“Please, please, please.”

A pathetic whimper escapes your lips and Aleksander grasps your hair, pulling you up so that you’re straddling his waist. His hips roll upwards as he adjusts his position beneath you, his bulge pressing directly against your desperate cunt and you cry out at the sensation.

A gasp steals the breath from your lungs as Aleksander pushes a finger inside you. The stretch almost seems too much, overwhelming you in the best way. Still, Aleksander’s finger seems too big for you.

“I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” Aleksander insists.

“We’ll have to train your little cunt, hm?” Alina suggests, smoothing stray hairs away from your forehead. “Buy some toys to stretch you out, so you can take his cock.”

He crooks his finger inside you and your mouth drops open as he begins to thrust into you, fingertip brushing against your most sensitive spot with every twist of his wrist. His forehead grazes yours, a stray lock of his hair tickling your skin. Each of his breaths flutter against your cheeks, as you pant against his lips.

Alina reaches over, rubbing at your clit perfectly and you begin to fall apart, cunt clenching rapidly around his finger. The wet sound of your slick smearing over their hands has heat flickering over your body as your hips jerk forwards involuntarily. Through gritted teeth, you cry out, and spiral into a dizzying orgasm.

Aleksander keeps working his finger into you, but Alina abandons your clit, opting to fondle your breasts as you catch your breath. She kisses over your neck and jawline, teeth gnawing little marks into your skin.

The loss of Aleksander’s finger inside you makes you whimper, even as he smears the mess of your arousal over Alina’s thighs. Seeing her thighs on display, your slick glistening over her skin, makes you ache and reach for her. She smacks your hands, a sharp sting against your skin that makes you withdraw instantly.

“Did I say you could touch me?” she asks.

You duck your head bashfully.

“No ma’am.”

“Stick your tongue out.”

Cheeks burning, you do as she says. Aleksander grasps a fistful of your hair, yanking your head backwards. He leans over you, a string of saliva dropping from his lips to your waiting tongue. When he releases your hair, Alina holds onto your chin, leaning down to spit into your mouth as well.

She leans backwards against the door of the car, admiring the sight of you looking so ruined with a wicked grin.

“Now, keep your tongue out for me, like a good girl.”

Aleksander grasps onto your hair again, tugging your mouth between Alina’s thighs. Both of you moan as your tongue meets her cunt. She grinds her hips upwards and you lap eagerly at her dripping entrance, feeling her twitching against your lips. Aleksander’s grip tightens on you as you moan quietly. He doesn’t let you up for a moment of air - not that you would even want it.

She groans loudly when you begin to suckle on her clit, tracing over the swollen bud in quick circles with your tongue. Her hand joins her husband’s in your hair, the two of them holding you against her cunt. As you press your tongue down on her clit, she tugs on your hair and the pain prickles over your scalp, drawing a moan from you.

Her breathing quickens, jerky gasps and small cries as she thrusts her hips forwards, cunt chasing your mouth. She writhes, both legs locking around your shoulders, drawing you even closer to her as she scrambles towards her climax.

Her cheeks are flushed, a healthy rose glowing over her skin, dark hair cascading over her shoulders as her chest heaves in air and your heart stops at the sight of her. Aleksander seems just as entranced as you are, leaning forward to kiss his wife thoroughly. Seeing the two of them entangled with one another had desire sparking inside you once again, your mind growing fuzzy as the events of this evening finally begin to take a toll on you.

Alina scoops up a coat that had been lying on the backseat, draping it over your shoulders as Aleksander slips out from beneath you. The scent of the coat immediately allows you to identify the owner - Aleksander. She stays with you in the backseat, while Aleksander moves into the drivers seat. It feels strange, having him drive you home instead of the other way around - as it usually is.

Alina retrieves your keys from your purse, pressing both of them into your hands before she buttons up the coat you’re wearing. It isn’t long before he’s pulling up outside your house. Aleksander opens up the car door by your side, reaching into the footwell to slip your shoes back onto your feet. He extends his hand towards you, helping you out of the car.

It’s only once you’ve closed your front door behind you that you realise your dress and panties are still with Alina and Aleksander.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

From that night onwards, Aleksander and Alina can’t keep their hands off you. There isn’t a single drive completed without one of them pushing your head between their thighs or slipping a hand beneath the waistband of your trousers to edge you.

Fogged up glass and leather seats have now filtered their way into your dreams and there’s scarcely a moment where you aren’t thinking of how Aleksander’s cock feels in your mouth or how Alina’s cunt squeezes around your fingers when she climaxes.

It comes to a point where you’re beginning to run out of panties - since them seem particularly fond of stealing yours. Until one day, where Aleksander holds out his hand expectantly and you falter. He raises a brow at you and a flush rises over your cheeks.

“I’m not wearing any.”

Alina grins wickedly and you just know there’s a mocking remark at the forefront of her mind. There’s a pause and you scramble to think of something to fill the sudden silence.

“I could give you my bra?”

Aleksander smiles widely.

That night, you try not to think about how neither of them have ever kissed your lips.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Alina,” you whine desperately, as the vibrations inside you rocket up to a level you’ve never experienced before. Gritting your teeth, you fight the tears blooming in the corner of your eyes, knowing it will only encourage her.

“Quiet, little dove. We don’t want anyone else to see you so pathetic, now do we?”

You shake your head hurriedly.

It truly was naive of you to believe that she had invited you to join her for lunch with no ulterior motive. Of course she would use the opportunity to torture you publicly, slipping a vibrator inside you to have you at her mercy.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Aleksander is painfully attractive with his sleeves rolled up. He’s been talking about the latest adjustments made to Alina’s car for the past few minutes, but you’ve barely heard a word of what he’s been saying.

How can you? When his thick hair has been ruffled so casually, his hands adorned with small smears of black grease, firm forearms on display as he speaks. His hands themselves maintain a hold on the majority of your brain functions.

Thoroughly enraptured by his image, you don’t notice him reaching forwards until he grasps onto your chin and your eyes snap up to meet his. He chuckles darkly.

“I see I have your attention now.”

You flush.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

He hums in response, unconvinced. Then he reaches down to unbutton his trousers and your mouth waters in anticipation as he pushes you down onto your knees.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Looking so attractive should be illegal. Aleksander and Alina have tucked themselves into one another, mid-conversation with their group of friends at a gala. As a member of their staff, you’re forced to watch from the sidelines as Aleksander wraps his arms around her middle, nodding absently at whatever is being said.

Without looking down at her, one of his arms trails up her body, casually cupping her jaw. Her own hands cling to his forearm draped around her waist. Even from this distance, through the throngs of people, you can see her back arching to subtly press her ass cheeks against the front of his trousers.

When the thin strap of her dress falls down from her shoulder, Aleksander hooks his finger beneath it without looking, fixing it back into place as he leans in to kiss her neck. Her eyelashes flutter, heady gaze locking on yours from across the room and you shiver.

Then, another hand traces down Alina’s arm, rubbing familiar circles over her bicep as Nikolai Lantsov steps closer, pressing a kiss in greeting to her cheek. Alina smiles widely at him and you stiffen. She loops her arms around the back of his neck and his hands settle on her waist as her body sinks into his. Alina’s dress is backless, meaning his hands are on her bare skin, and a tension fills your shoulders.

When he withdraws from her, Aleksander holds out his hand to Nikolai and the two of them shake hands, drawing one another closer as their handshake dissolves into a hug. Nikolai squeezes Aleksander’s shoulder between his fingers as they embrace and something in your chest twists.

Seeing Nikolai between them both - where you want to be - has an antsy feeling prickling over your skin, urging you to get away from the sight before you do something rash.

Exiting the main hall where the gala is being hosted, you breathe deeply in an attempt at settling your temper. Consumed by your thoughts, you’re caught off guard mid-stride in a deserted corridor.

“What have we told you about being jealous?” Aleksander asks, his hand curling around your throat as he pins you to the wall.

He tightens his hold on your neck, squeezing gently and your cunt clenches around nothing as you whimper. Alina strokes her hands over her husband’s shoulders, smiling at the sight of you so helpless.

“Come on, little dove. Don’t tell me you’ve gone mindless already.”

“Sir,” you whine. He smirks darkly.

“I’m barely touching you.” He nudges your legs apart, slotting his thigh between them. Arousal is already clinging to the scrap of lace against your cunt. “Perhaps a little incentive will encourage you to find your words for us.”

He slides his leg upwards and they both laugh when you grind down on the trouser-clad muscle.

“I- I’m not jealous,” you protest weakly.

Alina smirks, raising a brow at you.

“No?” She brushes a loose strand of hair away from your forehead, hand dropping down to grope beneath your dress. “Then why don’t you let us introduce to some of our friends? Maybe Nikolai?”

A whimper catches in the back of your throat and you shake your head, biting down on your lower lip. They both laugh as your cheeks burn hot.

“Now, are you going to apologise for your behaviour?” Aleksander asks as he releases his hold on your throat.

His words make you recoil instantly, practically insulted at the thought of apologising for doing barely anything wrong.

“What? No.”

The look they both give you has an ice cold shudder running down your spine and you almost whimper at the intensity of their gaze. This might be the first time you’ve ever outright refused them and it doesn’t feel as empowering as you had imagined when you first started working for them.

Aleksander keeps his hand on the nape of your neck, while Alina grips your elbow, and the two of them steer you outside. They stand close by as you retrieve the car keys from the valet, their eyes watching your every move as you shift nervously.

When you reach the car, Alina opens the back door, gesturing for you to get inside while Aleksander retrieves something from the back of the car. She swats your ass cheek as you climb in, startling you, before she slides in beside you.

When you see what Aleksander is holding, a fine piece of black rope, your stomach flips.

“Give me your hand,” he demands in a low tone.

Hesitantly, you offer him your left hand, which he takes in his own, looping the rope around your wrist.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper in a tiny voice.

Aleksander halts his knots and looks up at you, his eyes soft.

“I know you are, little dove. But we need the lesson to sink in this time.”

Once the rope is secure around your wrist, Aleksander guides your arm backwards so that he can tie it to the base of the headrest behind you. Then he reaches for your other hand, while Alina opens up a bag, pulling out a vibrator, and you realise what they’re planning to do with you.

“Please, I’m sorry. I said I was sorry.”

Aleksander takes your chin firmly between his fingers.

“If you had been a good girl, and had done as you were told, you wouldn’t be in this situation, now would you?”

“No,” you whimper weakly. Aleksander smiles indulgently, continuing tightening the rope around your wrist.

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Alina connects the vibrator to her phone, turning it on and trailing the end of it down your inner thigh as she parts your legs. The sensation is slow but it thrums heavily up to your cunt. She turns it off as she reaches the puffy lips of your cunt, easing it slowly into your entrance. A tiny bead of sweat rolls down your calf as she stretches you open so intimately.

A weak cry escapes your lips when she turns it on again. Pleasure shoots its way up your entire body, burrowing into your chest and prickling over the back of your neck. Liquid bliss drops down your spine, blooming in your abdomen as you writhe at the onslaught of sensation. Aleksander watches you intently.

“Shall I tie her legs up as well, Alya?”

Alina tilts her head aside, considering his question, and you whimper. Then she shakes her head as a wicked smirk spreads over her features.

“I like seeing her squirm.”

Alina sinks a hand into your hair, tugging lightly so that you meet her gaze. Then she says a quiet voice that makes you shiver,

“You can come undone as many times as you want, but I want you to know that you’re the one paying for the seat to be cleaned afterwards.”

Shame burns through your body, hot molten pooling down between your thighs, dripping over their expensive leather seats - a custom design by Aleksander himself.

He leans in, his fingers brushing against yours as his nose traces along your jawline and you breathe in shakily. Then you feel a loose piece of rope being nudged against your fingertips.

You blink at him. He’s giving you an out.

Aleksander presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Be good for us.”

This is worse than anything. Knowing that you could free yourself. Knowing that you’re at their mercy one hundred percent willingly. Tears gloss down your cheeks and you know you’ve painted a pitiful picture of yourself - and that they will be enjoying every second of it.

The next few hours seem to drag on forever.

When they return, you’re an incoherent mess. Make up thoroughly smudged, mascara and tears staining your cheeks, and sweat glossing over your skin. The entire car smells of sex; the scent has probably embedded itself into the leather.

Alina hushes you, taking the vibrator out gently. When the rough lace of your panties brushes against your sensitive clit, you flinch and she removes your underwear instantly. Their hands on you are the only thing keeping you upright as Aleksander unties your wrists.

“Who do you belong to?” Alina asks in a low whisper.

“You. Both of you.”

Aleksander kisses your forehead.

“Good girl.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Alina climbs smoothly into the back of the car, leaning around your seat to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Happy birthday, little dove.”

A frown creases at your brows as you turn to look at her, blinking in surprise even as your stomach flips at her gentle gesture of affection.

“I- Thank you.”

She grins, leaning back into her seat and clicking her seatbelt into place. Baffled at her affectionate greeting - and by the fact that she remembered your birthday this year - you put the car into gear and set off towards their house.

When you arrive, Alina takes your hand, tugging you through the garage, towards the door which leads into their house. Her fingers slip through yours as she moves up the three little steps, disappearing into what you assume is their hallway.

Aleksander is there holding the door open, and he inclines his head in the direction of the hallway which you can now see leads further into their house.

“Come on, little dove.”

You blink at him. None of their drivers have ever been invited into their house and very few Morozova employees are even allowed into the building.

“Inside?” you ask. He nods.

Faltering at the threshold, you look down at your feet, eyeing your worn old boots cautiously. Then you glance nervously at Aleksander.

“Should I take my shoes off?”

He tilts his head aside for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching, before he nods.

“If you don’t mind.”

Bending over, you unlace your boots and nudge them over to the side of the hallway while Aleksander walks towards the living room. He shrugs his suit jacket from his shoulders, folding it over the back of the sofa.

Alina smiles at you, nodding towards the kitchen.

“Drink?” she asks you. You blink at her.

“Oh, um, no thank you.”

“Would you like a tour?”

Thoroughly confused, yet eager to see more of their private space, you nod. They show you the dining room, the patio space, the pool room. Everything is just as luxurious as you expected. The last room they show you is their bedroom.

Aleksander sits down at the foot of the bed, his legs spread comfortably and you ache at the sight of his thighs, eyeing your favourite place to sit. Then he beckons to you.

“Come here.”

Anticipation prickling over your skin, you sit down beside him. Alina retrieves something from her beside cabinet, slipping a smooth cardboard box into your lap. Once you’ve loosen the lid, revealing the contents hidden beneath luxury sheets of tissue paper, Aleksander presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Happy birthday, little dove.”

You stare down into the box, eyeing the delicate silver choker there.

“I-”

“It’s just a little something,” Alina says quietly. “To remind you of who you belong to.”

You turn to look at her sharply, holding her dark gaze for a long moment.

“Would you put it on for me?” you ask.

There’s a small click as the clasp closes, the metal encircling your throat perfectly. They exchange a heated look and desire blooms in your stomach. Alina’s hands wander slowly over your body, cupping your breasts and casually circling her thumbs over your clothed nipples.

“Alina…” you whisper in a desperate plea.

“What do you want?”

“You. Touch me, please.”

She leans in, kissing you passionately. A moan of pure relief wracks through your body as you sink back onto the bed, Alina pushing you down to lie beneath her. Fuelled by need, you grind your hips upwards to meet hers as she straddles your waist.

Her hands slip up your shirt, grabbing eager fistfuls of your breasts, searching for your nipples. When she finds them, she tugs, your back arching at the sensation. Her mouth descends onto your neck, pressing kisses over the sensitive skin there. But she’s kissed your neck countless times. Now that you’ve tasted her lips you’re desperate for more.

Even now, she can’t resist teasing you, lifting her head up out of reach as you try to kiss her again. A whine catches in the back of your throat and she laughs softly. She doesn’t keep you waiting long, ducking her head down to kiss you again which pulls a moan from you.

You think you might be addicted to her lips.

Aleksander curls his fingers around the nape of your neck, pulling your face towards his. His mouth moves slowly against yours, swallowing each of your moans.

He kisses along your jawline, nipping lightly with his teeth which leaves a trail of blooming marks over your skin. He licks over your collarbones, a small sound of pleasure catching in his chest. He murmurs a quiet admission against the hollow of your throat.

“I want you to say my name.”

There’s no hesitation.

“Aleksander,” you whisper. He groans.

Alina shares a look with her husband and they appear to exchange some sort of silent conversation. Then she slides her leg around your waist, flipping you over so that you’re on top of her. Aleksander places his hands on your waist, tilting your hips upwards.

The head of his cock slides against your entrance, slowly carving a space for himself inside you. A desperate whimper catches in your throat at the burning stretch and your forehead drops down to press against Alina’s shoulder.

“S’too big. Aleksander.”

“You’ve seen Alina take me before, haven’t you?” he asks, a breathless edge to his voice.

They both share a grin when you nod, reminding all three of you of the intimate moments you’ve witnessed between them both.

After the initial stretch, the wet slick of your arousal helps Aleksander to slide deeper into you, drawing out a near pornographic moan from your chest. Pleasure floods up your spine, filling your head with a heady bliss that clouds your thoughts.

When you glance down between your open thighs, noticing he’s only halfway inside you, a weak sob of frustration heaves at your shoulders.

“Alina. It’s too much.”

She shushes you, brushing a stray stand of hair from your forehead.

She breathes out a soft moan, pressing her palm against your stomach - directly over the place where Aleksander’s cock is buried inside you. When she applies a little more force, you squirm at the sensation.

“Sasha,” she sighs, her voice breathy. “I can feel you inside her.” Her teeth tug at your earlobe. “Don’t you feel full, little dove?”

You nod hurriedly.

Aleksander grits his teeth into a near snarl, jaw muscles clenching as he pushes the last few inches of his cock inside you. He breathes out harshly, a rushed exhale that you feel brushing over your shoulder before he groans at the feeling of being completely consumed by the heat of your cunt.

“That’s our girl. Our good fucking girl.”

His words stumble out of him and your cunt clenches at the praise. He presses a line of kisses over your shoulders, lips suckling on your skin before his tongue traces over the marks left there.

A broken moan reverberates through Alina’s chest, her head tilting back into the plush pillow beneath her head. With her neck bared, you can see every throb of her pulse as it pounds under the delicate skin of her throat. Aleksander breathes out a soft laugh.

“Can I tell you a secret, little dove?” he murmurs against your cheek, soft breathy pants accompanying his words. You nod hurriedly. “Alina is just as pathetic as you are.” His hand grasps your jaw, turning your head so that you’re face to face with Alina. “Look at her.”

Alina’s cheeks are burning red, flushed brighter than you’ve ever seen them. There’s a bashfulness in her expression that she’s trying to hide, but the way her eyes bounce from your chest to your lips - avoiding your eyes - tells you everything.

Aleksander tightens his hold on your hip, grasping a fistful of your hair as he adjusts the angle of his thrusts, filling you perfectly with his cock. The slow roll of his hips has you drooling over Alina’s collarbone.

“And I think I can unravel her just by bumping your pretty clits together.”

Alina’s messy cunt slips beside yours, swollen bundles of nerves catching against each other. The subtle scrape of pubic hair grazes both of your sensitive buds, making the two of you gasp and writhe.

“What do you think, Alya?” he asks. The dark mocking in his tone is so familiar, but you’ve never heard it directed at Alina. From the small whine that catches in the back of her throat, this is a rare treat for her.

Her nipples brush against the soft curves of your breasts, occasionally nudging into your own nipples as you grind together. Each of Aleksander’s thrusts have you knocking against Alina’s clit, violent sparks of pleasure winding the coil tighter inside you.

Aleksander breathes out a laugh, though he chokes on it slightly as your cunt tightens around his cock. Arousal sticks to your thighs, though you’re not certain whose it is. Alina’s eyes flutter closed, her mouth drops open and her brows crinkle together.

“Alina, please,” you whisper.

She bursts beneath you, crying out as she climaxes. It doesn’t take much more for you to follow alongside her, cunt clenching rapidly around Aleksander’s cock. You arch into their bodies, writhing between them.

Alina’s breathing is rapid in your ear, little shaky gasps as she begins to come down from your simultaneous highs. Aleksander breathes out harshly, his cock still rigid inside you as pleasure thrums around your body. He slowly eases himself out of you with a low groan.

“Look at these perfect little cunts. All wet and needy for me.” He traces his fingertip over the curve of your ass, hands spreading your cheeks so that he can examine your dripping cunt. “Which one should I fill with my cum?”

Alina whines.

“I’m your wife,” she protests petulantly.

Aleksander hums absently, mock indecision playing over his features. Seeing the woman who delights in belittling you brought down to your level - a needy whimpering mess - is painfully arousing.

“But our little dove has been empty for so long. Don’t you want to let her go first?”

Alina looks up at you. The two of you lock eyes with one another and one thing is abundantly clear - she does not want you to have Aleksander’s cum first. Her eyes darken and she reaches for your throat the moment your mouth descends onto hers in a hungry kiss.

It’s primal - the way you grasp at one another, hips bucking, nails digging into plush skin. Her teeth nip at your lower lip, drawing a small groan of frustration from you. Abandoning her lips, you move your attention down to her breasts, dragging your teeth over her skin.

She smacks your thighs, leaving a heated prickle of pain in the wake of her palm as you continue to kiss her body. The hold you have on her hips is fierce, reddened marks biting into her skin as you press your thigh against her soaked cunt. Alina tugs on your nipples, twisting the sensitive buds painfully.

She knows your every weakness, but your actions are fuelled by the months of teasing she’s put you through. In this moment, it appears you’re at a stalemate. Evenly matched in your ferocity to push the other into submission.

When you glance over at Aleksander, he’s fisting his cock, gripping the base with white knuckles as he watches the two of you struggle with one another. His eyes meet yours and a shudder runs through your body.

He shifts forwards, moving between your thighs, manoeuvring you to lie draped over Alina with your legs spread wide. He presses the head of his cock against your entrance, stroking it against your twitching cunt, and you moan desperately.

Aleksander slams his hips into yours, filling you completely with one thrust which steals the breath from your lungs, toes curling as you cry out involuntarily. Every ounce of control you have over yourself disintegrates, subconsciously giving your body over to the two of them completely.

“Aleksander,” you cry weakly.

Alina grips your throat, while Aleksander continues his determined thrusts into your tight, wet cunt. The sound of skin slapping and the scent of sex hangs heavy in the air. They praise and degrade you constantly and the burning heat of pleasure and pain swims under your skin.

Aleksander swats your ass, the plush skin jostling with the motion of his hips combined with his smacks. Everything fades away, until you can only hear the wetness of your cunt and the rushing of blood in your ears. The world narrows down to the pleasure between your legs.

Alina’s hands are on your breasts, tugging on her favourite part of you. After months of being denied the two of them, being between them now is borderline overwhelming.

Every time Alina’s lips meet yours for a kiss, your cunt tightens. The feeling of clenching around Aleksander’s cock has pleasure shooting through your body, especially when his thrusts nudge the head of his cock against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

A sharp cry of their names, and several loud curses, escape your lips and you grip onto Alina’s waist, nails biting into her skin as you writhe between them, your body hurtling into a dizzying climax.

Aleksander continues to drive his cock into you, wrecked moans reverberating from deep in his chest as he grasps onto your hips. He keeps you held open for him, ignoring your whimpers as your cum seeps from your abused little cunt.

His hips go still as he orgasms, his cum spilling into you and he breathes out a soft moan. Aleksander lowers his forehead down onto your shoulder, damp strands of hair tickling your skin while he revels in his own high. A giddiness fills your chest and a bright smile tugs at your lips.

When he pulls out of you, the feeling of his hot cum slips from your cunt, dripping down onto Alina’s. There’s a dull ringing in your ears and all the tension in your body seems to melt. With shaking hands, you reach down to her clit, using your release to rub slow, slick circles that have her writhing beneath you.

She gasps your name and the fuzziness in your head seems to double in its intensity. Aleksander’s hand joins yours, guiding your motions to help you bring Alina to her peak. She moans deeply, back arching as she succumbs to her orgasm.

Her chest heaves, nipples brushing unintentionally against your chest as she catches her breath. There’s a shakiness in your limbs and you collapse weakly onto Alina. She threads a hand slowly through your hair, tracing distracted circles over your skin.

The warmth of Aleksander’s body disappears as he lifts himself up from the two of you, standing at the foot of the bed with his hands settled on the sheets. His gaze is heavy on you both as Alina nudges you gently, until you’re sitting up on their bed beside one another.

Alina tilts her head, glancing over at her husband. She leans in to whisper against the shell of your ear, mischief dancing in her dark eyes.

“Should we lick his cock clean?”

Biting down on your lower lip, you nod at her with a soft, excited laugh which she shares. Aleksander tilts his head at you both, a curious twinkle in his dark eyes. He smirks.

“What are you two giggling at?”

Lowering your gaze coyly, you smile at him as Alina squeezes affectionately at your throat.

“Nothing, Sasha.”

His cock twitches and your stomach flips.

Alina moves towards his cock first, licking a broad stripe up from the head to the base, her nose brushing against the collection of dark curls there. The soft groan from Aleksander is all the incentive you need to join her.

The two of you lick over his softened cock, tongue lapping up the mixture of cum - both his and yours. The sticky substance smears over your lips and you mouth over his cock, occasionally meeting with Alina’s mouth for a sloppy kiss.

Aleksander’s cock jerks at the sight before him and he takes hold of the base to tap the sticky head of his cock against your cheek. His cum smears over your face, and your cheeks burn at the demeaning action. A delighted smile tugs at Alina’s lips before she licks up the mess from your face with a pleased little hum.

He ducks his head down for a messy kiss. The three of you settle down at the head of the bed, swapping each other’s mouths between one another - sucking on lips and tracing tongues. They both reach between your thighs, scooping up the arousal clinging to the lips of your cunt and sucking the remains from their fingers as you lie together on their bed.

The next morning, you wake up nestled between them both with silk covers draped over your body. There’s a pleasurable ache between your legs. The skin of your ass cheeks and thighs are sensitive when you shift slightly, tender skin brushing against the smooth sheets.

Alina hums quietly beside you, sleepily wrapping her arms around your waist. She drops a light, sleepy kiss onto your shoulder. Her other hand is already holding a fistful of your hair, keeping you close to her.

Aleksander sighs, his hand slipping between you and Alina, sliding down your back. There’s a dull sting when his fingers brush against the scratch marks there. He kisses your collarbone gently. He places a few slow kisses over your neck, his nose nudging against the numerous marks bitten and bruised into your skin from the events of last night.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“What do you think of it?” Aleksander asks, looping his arms around your waist as you admire the newest addition to the garage.

The car in front of you is magnificent, sleek edges, painted a pretty pearlescent cream that shimmers in the cool light. Unlike Alina’s favourite car, there’s four seats, though it has a similar luxurious design.

“It’s beautiful.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth at your praise. “Have you thought of a name for it?”

He hums quietly with a small nod and you turn to him expectantly. He shares a look with Alina and his smile widens.

“Dove.” That single word makes your heart skip a beat. Then Alina grins.

“Would you like to christen it?”

Biting down on your lower lip, you nod with a smile. She takes your hand, tugging you over to towards the car.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire @dhampiravidi

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

[unculturedswine-101]

I’m the fox you’ve been waiting for! (Benny O’Donnell x reader)

A/N: So yeah there isn’t rly an audience for this, but I’m having a good time so I’ll keep going (also holy shit, so many typos in the first chapter - in all fairness I was baked and they are fixed). Also making small alterations to the original plot, doesn't change the main story whatsoever.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2:

Standing outside you and the rest of the soon-to-be seniors, began loading the incoming freshman into the back of the trucks. “Wake up bitch, wake. Up. Open” Darla shouts at the freshmen while shoving binkies in their mouths. “Okay, open wide” you sigh doing the same in the back of Shavone’s truck. You soon notice a girl staring, “Hey you! Come here” You call to the brunette, who stares wide-eyed. “You! Who are you?” You ask as she comes forward “Uh, nobody I mean I wasn’t on the truck” she says referring to the trucks of her fellow classmates. “Are you freshman?” I ask “Yeah” she answers “Well are you in or out?” you ask, putting an arm around her shoulders “In” she smiles. All three of you sparked up cigarettes so that you could one, look intimidating to the younger girls and two, take the edge off for the humiliation you were about to bestow.

Darla begins by ordering the girls to lie down in a circle around us, she places her hands on her hips with a nasty scowl on her face - deeming her the ringleader in this afternoon's activities. ''You disgusting little sluts…AIR RAID!'' The girls hastily roll themselves onto their stomachs, dissatisfied she yells once more ''That was pitiful! On your feet, you lazy little bitches!'' Darla drills them a few more times, each with more gruelling insults than the last.Until she sighs, Well, we tried, we gave you a chance..but since you, little PRICK TEASES can't quite follow instructions, we're going to have to try something else…Seniors?'' She nods at you, and the others ''You love us. Smile, you love us.''

As everyone began grabbing the various ''supplies'' for today; eggs, flour, honey, ketchup and mustard, to name a few. You opted for ketchup and honey, giving generous squirts to all the cringing faces on the ground. As cruel as it was, you had to admit, there was something kind of fun about it being a ritual that you were finally on the other end of. In a way, it felt like payback.You see Jodi, pick out the girl you spoke to at the middle school. So you choose another sitting on the ground, and look around at the various cliques of boys around the parking lot.

Halfway through your scan, you spot Benny in the back of his truck, along with Hudson and O'Bannion on the other side of the parking lot. Although you could pretty much any guy, you wanted, there was something about Benny that intrigued you. You both had never really spoken about it, but it the way he would constantly look to see if you were in the stands at his games, or the way you would always look for him at a party…just to know he was there - that you both realized there was this sort of this ''unspoken thing''. But you were tired of the flirty exchanges you would occasionally have and wanted to see how far you could push him into asking you out.

You quickly made a beeline for Pink, Don and Slater. You and Don dated for a bit last year, but broke up before the summer of your junior year. And fortunately for you, you would notice how obviously jealous Benny got whenever you two spoke one on one. You plant yourself in front of the guys. Don lifts his eyebrows on your arrival, as you flashed him a flirty smile ''Propose to Mr.Dawson'' I announce, as the girl gets down on her knees. ''Will you marry me?'' She asks in a tentative voice, Don laughs. ''Anything you want'' Pink interjects ''Anything he wants?''. Pink whispers something into Don's ear making him let out a loas guffaw, I narrow my eyes at the two, trying to decipher the surely stupid joke.

While focusing on trying to make Benny jealous, you don't even notice how well its working. He initially shifted his attention when he heard your giggle fill the air, it was one that made him smile every time he heard it (especially because he was the one that made you laugh the most). When his eyes finally land on the source, his smile soon turns to a grimace when he sees who you're talking to. Practically fuming as he watches you throw your head back in laughter, your curls bouncing with it.

You were going to roll your eyes of Don's douchey response of asking her if she ''spits or swallows''. But, you were determind to get Benny to ask you out before Summer started. So you laughed, even as going as far to touch Don's knee as the girl repeated her earlier statement and Don broke out of the tension between the contact and he jokes ''I would definetly marry you!''

Benny knew he had to do something, but he also knew he would chicken out. As much bravado as he excuded, he was terrified asking you out. It was so easy to just keep flirting with you on the off hand at parties or at school, but he knew he wanted more. ''Cmon you pussy go defend yourself!'' O'Bannion yaps, gesturing to you and the guys with his beer. ''Fuck off O'Bannion'' he sighs, taking a swig of his own beer. ''We'll just have to get you tanked tonight, nothing like a little liquid courage'' Hudson pipes up, clinking his beer against Benny's.

You looked over to Benny, checking to see if your not-so-innocent flirting. You felt butterflies in your stomach to see his eyebrows furrowed, sending Daggers into Don’s eyes. You secretly celebrated this little victory, as you told Don to grow up, and wrapped your arm around the freshman’s shoulders to protect her.

Soon enough, the hazing began wrapping up, as Darla ordered everyone to get back in the trucks to go through the car wash. But your mind was plagued with thoughts of Benny, and racing about what he was going to say to you at Pickford’s party last night.

After the girls had been *mostly* rinsed through, one by one you began dropping off the girls at home. You turned to look at the remaining girls, and noticed the girl from earlier. Suddenly, you felt this rush of wanting to help this girl with her highschool experience. You could instantly recall the fear of facing highschool after the hazing, and a soon-to-be-senior showed you the ropes to make you the person you are today. You hop out of the truck, darting your way to the back to help the girl out. ''Hey you need a hand?'' you smiled up at the girl who nervously nodded as she handed her clogs and books to you and stepped out of the back. ''We should hangout sometime'' you suggest, sisterly putting an arm around her wet shoulders. ''Yeah that would be cool'' she smiled, ''Well there's this really great party going on tonight, its supposed to be really fun....'' you hinted, hoping she would ask to come along.

You noticed the excitement in her eyes, ''..Do you wanna come?'' you offered ''Yeah'' ''Yeah? Alright, we'll pick you up around 8, you think that would be okay?'' ''Yeah that should be fine'' ''Alright see you then!'' You wave heading back to the truck. You giggled to yourself, you were so happy you invited her, and at the same time distract yourself from the nerves of this evening.

[normanbased]

“feebly ask on date” and “ask completely inappropriate question” for the. sims prompts thingy

THANK GOD YOU ASKED THE ONES I WANTED THE MOST 💥😭🙏 BRAIN CONNECTION doing the first one first and the second one uhhh second but I’ll make a separate post for it :]] (as usual, if you see any typos or mistakes, no you didn’t 💕)

Feebly Ask on a Date

There was a fetid little crush beginning to fester in Norman’s heart.

He didn’t think it was possible to fall so strongly for another person like this, especially for someone as rebellious as you. Mother didn’t like troublemakers, and Norman knew better than to develop feelings for passing strangers.

But knowing better didn’t always mean following Mother’s expectations. His urges were difficult to control, as were those undeniable, blossoming revelations of love beginning to bubble up inside of him.

He couldn’t bare it. The very thought of you made his heart race so fast that he could hardly stand upright. It was so nauseating in fact, that he couldn’t even spy on you anymore without feeling faint. He was the definition of lovesick. He wanted to be with you, absolutely he wanted to - but… he couldn’t quite overcome those awful nerves...

Regardless, his obsession was growing fast. He didn’t want you to leave, ever. He would find a way to make you stay somehow. If he couldn’t, well, he would cross that bridge when he got to it — if it came down to that.

In the meantime, Norman had to build up his courage. He couldn’t very well ask you to be with him if he couldn’t even bare to see you.

He spent the afternoons upstairs in his bedroom, pacing back and forth and practicing his romantic proposals on the only friend willing to put up with his antics — his stuffed rabbit.

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” He stuttered. “W-Would you want to, um-… No, I can do better, let me try again.”

He’d been trying over and over to figure out what to say. He wanted to get it perfect, so that there would be no room for rejection. His confidence was paper thin, but he was sure that there was a strong, assertive version of himself in there somewhere. He just had to release it.

Norman turned away and counted to ten in his head. When he turned back around, he planted both hands firmly on the bed and leaned in close.

“Do you wanna have dinner with me?” He leered as seductively as he could, whispering right into the flopped ear of his rabbit.

The rabbit slumped down, dragged by the gravitational pull of secondhand embarrassment.

Ugh.

He smacked his hands over his face in a red flush of humiliation, and shot off to the other side of the room to pace feverishly. He couldn’t hold back his groans, horrified by the sound of his own awkward, terribly unsexy voice.

This wasn’t going to work.

“God,” he lamented, sitting on the edge of his bed. “What am I thinking?”

He held his head in his hands. He laid down onto his side and looked into the black, glassy eyes of his stuffed companion.

“I’m not ready for this, am I?”

The rabbit’s eyes glinted with sympathy in the light of the lowering sun.

“D’you think I might be worrying too much?” Norman questioned, before smiling weakly. “Maybe… you’re right. Maybe I should just go for it.”

He nodded to himself bravely.

“Do you think I can do it?”

His rabbit didn’t move or speak, but it’s solemn little face gave Norman a glimmer of hope.

He could do it.

Before he had even registered what he’d done, he was standing outside of your cabin door, having just knocked it with excitable vigour. He brushed down his sweater with nervous hands, and fixed the collar on his shirt.

He waited for you to open the door, his heart thumping like mad. He could hear your footsteps approaching, and the handle rattled. Norman wrung his hands together fretfully, saying nothing as you opened the door to him with a surprised smile.

“Evening, Norman.” You grinned, leaning into the door frame. “Where’ve you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”

Norman looked down at the decking. The floorboards seemed so far away. He felt himself swaying like a skyscraper in a storm. His breath was held tightly, and he had to close his throat to stop himself from being sick all over his shoes.

He didn’t want to do this anymore.

He’d built himself up back in the house. He’d mustered up so much courage to march out here and knock on your door. But now that he was here in front of your cabin, in front of you, Norman’s head began to spin so fast he feared that it might twist right off. He couldn’t look at you, he couldn’t speak.

He had to get out of here, back to the house before he fainted.

“Why don’t you come in?” You said, before he had the chance to flee.

He looked at you then, eyes bordering on wild. His mouth was dry, and when his lips parted to speak, nothing came out besides a hiccuped stutter. He clenched his jaw shut and shook his head, swallowing feverishly in the hopes it would wrench his voice free.

You watched him curiously, amused by his strange behaviour. You gestured wordlessly with your arm to invite Norman inside again, but he didn’t move. It was as though he were glued stuck to the decking.

Norman knew he couldn’t run away now without looking like the biggest fool in the world, but he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. What was he thinking? He had to get away right now, he had to, he—

“Hi.” He choked out.

What the hell was he doing now?

“Hi, Norman.” You said back in a slow, curious voice. “Did you need something?”

There was a little, amused smirk on your lips. He didn’t know whether to be assured by it or offended.

“Um… S-Sorry for uh, bothering you like this.” He muttered.

His hands were shaking like crazy, and he tried to squeeze them tightly to each other to make the shaking stop.

“Oh, that’s alright.” You reassure him. “I wasn’t doing anything anyway. It’s good to see you.”

You were happy to see him? Oh, God.

“Really? Oh, well that’s… that’s great.”

A long beat of silence passed before Norman thought to speak again.

“Well, I just t-thought I should come and ask if you were free later, and m-m-maybe if you wanted to eat. If you wanted to eat dinner, I mean. Because I was-… I was thinking of making some d-dinner, and I wanted to know if you wanted to uh, oh…”

No, that wasn’t good enough.

“uh, no, sorry- I um, if you had some spare… some spare time-… some…”

You’ve fucked it up, haven’t you?

His head was pounding now. He was going to pass out if he didn’t find a way to ground himself quickly.

You seemed to notice his unsteadiness, and before you could ask him what was the matter, his legs were suddenly giving out beneath him.

Before he could drop to the ground, you caught his lanky form tightly in your arms, and slowly lowered him to rest against the outer wall of the cabin. He stayed there, dazed and lightheaded, while you patted his cheek and tried to snap him out of it.

You tended to him for a while with a wet cloth on his forehead, and slowly helped him sip down a glass of water to soothe his dry throat. Once he was sufficiently calmed, you sat beside him, and the two of you looking out towards the low sunset on the horizon of the highway.

The crickets chirped away in the distance. The birds flocked across the purpling sky to roost in the sparse trees. The desert road that had been baking in the sun all day smelled sweetly of tarmac and dust.

Norman’s chest wasn’t thrumming with anxiety anymore, not now that your shoulders were pressed together, and your hand was lazily placed atop his. He turned to look at you, but you were still gazing off pensively at the thin red line of sun.

“Hello.” He said without stuttering.

Let’s try this again.

“Hi, Norman.” You smiled. “You wanted to ask me something?”

Yes.

He nodded with a gentle smile, and pondered his next move. Your thumb stroked the back of his hand affectionately. The fading sunlight still lingered in the warmth of your eyes.

He could do it.

He rested his cheek on your shoulder and you leaned into him, closing your eyes and feeling a gentle blush creep onto your face. His free hand loosely tangled itself into the fabric of your button-up.

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

You let out a relieved laugh and nodded.

“Absolutely.”

You let out a relieved laugh and nodded.

“Absolutely.”

[comment-exchange]

Hi, thanks for running this exchange! It’s such a good project. In response to your questions on commenting etiquette, especially about concrit: I “grew up” in a fandom where concrit was normal and expected. I had much better engagement with my stories then than I do now, even though I was in a small fandom and most of what I wrote as a teenager was pretty bad. These days I have a lot of readership/kudos, but almost no-one comments, which makes fandom really lonely.

I think anxiety about commenting correctly is part of it. I saw someone leave a thoughtful, enthusiastic two-paragraph comment on a fic recently, and also (accurately) pointed out a single easy to fix typo. Not only the author but several of her friends piled in to belittle and humiliate this person for daring to criticise. Even after the commenter apologised, they continued to level personal abuse. That author is a Big Name Fan in my fandom, so it probably won’t affect people engaging with their stories - but it’s difficult to see it and not think “is this why so few people comment on my fic now?” I am actually going to stop writing for that fandom once I’ve finished my current WIP because it’s like shouting into a void.

The only type of comment that was considered bad manners in my old fandom was flaming. Long comments, short comments, nitpicking, “can’t wait to see what’s next!” etc - that was all fine. Personally, I’d much rather we still had that culture rather than a precise set of rules. If people want to opt out of a certain type of comment they can specify in their author’s note - rather than the current situation, where people are so worried about commenting correctly that they don’t do so at all, and that’s detrimental to fandom community. (And yes, I’ve sent this on anon because I’m worried about *that* author - who had hitherto ignored me - sending her friends after my own fic!)

Really interesting questions and I look forward to seeing people’s responses!

I'm very sorry you're having such a bad experience with the comment culture in that fandom. Thank you for sharing your experience and your opinions on comments, hopefully it will help someone to remember that commenting etiquette isn't a one way street and both the commenter and the author need to be kind.

For anyone looking to help find a balance between not commenting/not getting comments and giving/getting the wrong kind of comments, whatever that might look like, check out @longlivefeedback.

[requiemforthepoets]

this is me trying 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: growing up, the only thing you know is that you need to be strong, provide, and take care of your sister. but being with oscar, it was different, he made you feel things—that it’s okay to not be fine, vulnerable, and to be taken care of.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have this fic finished the other day but i was debating on whether to post it or not, but here we are. it’s been a while too since i last wrote for oscar, and this is like a comfort (?) fic idk lol. also, can i just say that LANDO ON POLE FOR THE SG GP!!! 😭🧡 ok, i hope you guys will have fun reading this one. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, eldest daughter syndrome, no use of y/n, cursing, unnamed sister, named friend, and parents death

You were sitting in the living room, surrounded by case files and legal books, trying your best to prepare for the court trial that you’ll be doing soon, but your mind was elsewhere. You can't focus on the work that you’re working on in front of you, no matter how hard you try. Your phone buzzed, and you almost didn’t answer, thinking it’s just another work call, but when you saw Blaire, your friend’s name, flash on the screen you quickly picked up, expecting a casual chat.

“Hey, Blaire, how are you?” You greeted her, trying to mask your exhaustion.

Her voice on the other end was hesitant, not the usual warm tone that you’re used to. “Hey…I really hate to bring this up, but I was wondering when you would be able to repay the five thousand dollars?”

Your stomach dropped. “Repay?” You repeated, utterly confused. “What do you mean five thousand dollars?”

The conversation between you and Blaire unraveled quickly. She explained how she had lent the money to your sister out of need, thinking it was for you or with your approval. Rage bubbled in your chest, your pulse quickened, at this point all you can see is red. You thanked her hastily, barely able to end the call before fury overtook you. Without thinking, you dialed your sister’s number, the beeps echoing in your ear like a countdown to an explosion.

“Hello?” Her voice was casual, completely unaware of the storm coming her way.

“What the actual fuck did you do?!” You yelled, not caring if it was late at night. “You borrowed five fucking thousand dollars from Blaire without asking me!? How could you?!”

There was a pause, a brief moment where you could almost feel her shrug through the phone. “Oh my god, can you relax? It’s not like you can't afford it. It’s not that big of a deal, you can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making, it’s barely a scratch on your bank account!” You couldn’t believe what you were actually hearing.

“Not a big deal? Did you spend the money already? Do you have any fucking idea how humiliating it is for me that you did this without even consulting me? You think just because I make good money, I’ll fix every mess you create?” You were seething.

“Well, yeah,” she responded with a laugh, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation. “You’re my older sister. Isn’t it your job to take care of me, right?”

Your grip on your phone tightened. “I’ve been taking care of you your whole life! I’m working myself to the bone just to make sure you have everything you need, sending you to that fancy school that you’ve always wanted so you can have a better future, and this is how you repay me? By lying and stealing?”

The silence on the other end of the line felt heavy, but your anger has not subsided. She mumbled something that sounded like a half assed apology, but it was already too late for that. You immediately hung up and slammed the phone down on the table, heart racing, pulse pounding in your ears. Anger still swirling inside you like a storm, the words of your sister still echoing in your mind. You can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making. Her carelessness, lack of respect—it hit harder than anything you had experienced before. It wasn’t about the money, you could handle the five thousand dollars easily, but the way she completely dismissed your hard work, as if it was nothing, as if your sacrifice and years of struggle meant nothing—that was what burned deep. It hurts like fucking hell.

You sat down there on the couch, trying to calm yourself down, tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. You didn’t cry. You cannot cry. You have always been strong your whole life—the provider, carer, and protector. That’s who you were. No one had ever taken care of you, not since your parents passed away when you were fifteen and your sister is only ten. It has always been you, alone, against the world, and now, it felt like even your sister was against you.

You didn’t hear Oscar enter the living room until his voice, soft but firm, broke through the silence. “Hey, I heard you from our room. Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, your body automatically stiffening instinctively and continued browsing through your documents like nothing happened.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” you lied, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

Oscar walked over and sat down beside you on the couch, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. “You don’t always have to be fine,” he said quietly. “Tell me, what happened?”

You exhaled sharply, your hands trembling as you ran them through your hair. “It’s my sister,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “She borrowed money from Blaire. Five thousand dollars. Without even telling me. Now, she’s acting like it’s my job to fix it.”

“Five thousand? That’s a lot.” Oscar frowned, his brows knitting in concern.

“I know,” you said, “she doesn’t even care. She just assumes I’ll take care of it, like I always do every time she gets into stupid situations. She thinks just because I earn good money, I’m supposed to fix everything.” Your voice cracked, and before you could stop it, the tears you had been holding back for so long finally broke free. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Oscar. I’m always the one fixing things, I’m always the one who has to be strong.”

Oscar didn’t say anything for a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes filled with understanding. Then, without a word, he pulled you into his arms. You tensed at first, still not used to being vulnerable, but Oscar’s embrace was warm, grounding. Slowly, your body relaxed into his, and the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little as you rested your head against his chest.

“It’s not fair,” you whispered to him. “I’ve always had to be the strong one. I’m tired, Oscar. I’m so fucking tired. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His hand gently stroked your back, his voice soft and reassuring. “I know. It’s okay to be tired. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes searching his face, “I just don’t know how to let anyone help me,” you admitted, voice barely audible. “I’ve been doing this for so long, I don’t know how to not be the one in control.”

“I get that. But you don’t have to do it all alone anymore. I’m here. Let me be strong for you, too.” Oscar smiled gently, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The idea of letting someone else carry even a fraction of the weight feels completely foreign to you. But as you looked at Oscar, his eyes full of sincerity, something inside you shifted. Maybe, it’s time you let it all fall down, you didn’t have to carry everything on your shoulders all the time.

“What am I supposed to do about her?” You asked, your voice small but steady now.

Oscar sighed softly, thinking for a moment. “You have all the right to be angry and upset. Your feelings are valid,” he said. “She needs to learn that actions have consequences. But at the same time, she’s your sister. She’s young, and sometimes young people tend to make mistakes. You’ve been doing everything for so long that she probably hasn’t learned how to take responsibility for herself yet.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Yeah, maybe. But I can’t just let her think she can keep doing this.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you also don’t have to do this alone. We can figure it out together.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone. Maybe you didn’t always have to be the strong one, the provider, the protector. With Oscar by your side, you could learn how to let someone else carry the weight with you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning into him once more. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Oscar smiled, pressing a soft tender kiss to your forehead. “You’ll never have to find out, I’m not going anywhere, my love.”

The next morning, you stared at the screen of your laptop, fingers moving quickly over the keys as you finished drafting the contract. The legal jargon was familiar, comforting even, but the fact that you had to use it against your own sister left a bitter taste in your mouth. The contract was firm, direct, and laid out the consequences clearly: five thousand dollars, to be repaid in installments, with interest and penalties if the deadline is missed. You hated doing it—your heart never felt so heavy—but you knew it was necessary. You had been too lenient for far too long, if she didn’t learn this now, she might never understand the true value of money and the responsibility that came with it. It was time for her to learn the hard truths you had known your entire life.

Oscar was sitting across the table, sipping his coffee, watching you in silence. “You’ve finished it?” He asked gently. You had told him last night that you need to straighten everything out, and told him your plan, in which he quickly supported you.

You nodded, eyes scanning the contract one last time before saving it. “Yeah. She’s not going to like it, but this has to be done.” You sighed, “I’ve been too lenient, too forgiving. I can’t keep cleaning up after her messes.”

“You’re doing the right thing.” He said as he reached over, placing his hand over yours. “It’s tough, but you’re teaching her a lesson she won’t forget.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, glancing out the window, the weight of responsibility pressing down on you once more. “I’ve never been one to ask for anything back, but she needs to learn that she can’t just treat me like this. I want her to be successful, but she can’t rely on me forever.”

Later that day, you booked a flight for her to Monaco, and notified her about the flight schedule. She was studying in Switzerland, and it would be a four hour flight from Switzerland to Monaco. It was time to have this conversation face-to-face. You couldn’t keep allowing her to avoid responsibility just because you were miles apart. This is a conversation that is long overdue.

A couple of days later, she arrived at your and Oscar’s shared apartment. She seemed different—more subdued, perhaps. You could tell the weight of your anger still lingered in her mind. She greeted you cautiously, her eyes flickering to Oscar, who stood nearby, his presence calm but protective.

“Sit down,” you said, pointing to the couch.

She looked at you, clearly trying to gauge your mood, but she did as she was told. You sat across from her, with Oscar by your side, and the freshly printed contract lying on the table between you. The tension in the living room was thick.

“I had already settled your debt with Blaire,” you began, your voice calm but firm. “But this conversation is not just about the money. It’s about respect, about responsibility.”

“I said I was sorry.” She crossed her arms, trying to play it cool.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” you snapped, your patience was already running thin, barely hanging on by a thread. “I have been providing for you because I want nothing but the best for you. But what you did was careless, and you disrespected everything I’ve done for you. You didn’t even ask me before borrowing that money, and then you just blatantly assumed I would handle it. You do this every time to me, you always get me into awkward and humiliating situations.”

She bit her lip, her attitude wavering. “I know, but you make so much—”

“That’s not the point!” You cut her off, about to lose your cool but Oscar had managed to calm you down by softly caressing your back. “Yes, I make good amount of money, but that money just doesn’t magically appear. I have worked hard, harder than you can imagine, to get to where I am. Do you want to know what’s worse? What’s worse is that you’re not even thinking about how hard it is to earn that money, how I burn myself off everyday. So I’m making you earn it back.” You slid the contract towards her.

“What’s this?” She looked down at it, then back at you, looking all confused.

“It’s an agreement,” you said. “I’ve decided to give you the five thousand dollars. Consider what you bought from that money as a gift, because I know you’ve been doing well in school, and it’s been a while since I’ve given you anything. But this will never happen again. You owe me that money, and you're going to pay it back. Every cent of it, with interest.” Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off before she could even speak.

“This is not negotiable. I’m still going to support you, I’m still going to pay for your tuition, but you need to learn how hard it is to earn this kind of money. You’re going to work for it, and I'll expect proof—payslips, records—everything. If you miss a payment, there will be penalties added, and if you refuse or try to make a fool out of me, I’m not afraid to take legal action.”

“You’d sue me? Your own sister?” She stared at you in disbelief.

“Yes, I would,” you said coldly. “I don’t want to, but you’ve left me with no choice. You are already eighteen and will turn nineteen in two months, you are already capable of knowing what’s right and wrong. You need to understand that I’m not going to bail you out every time you mess up, this is your responsibility now.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Her face was a mix of shock and anger, but you could tell the gravity of the situation was already starting to sink in.

“I’m not trying to be harsh,” you said softly, leaning forward. “But I’ve been in your shoes, and I know firsthand how hard life can be. I have shielded you from that, and maybe that was my mistake. But if you’re going to succeed in this world, you need to understand that nothing is free, nothing in life is free. Everything comes with a cost.”

Oscar then leaned forward, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’re not doing this to hurt you,” he added, tone gentle but firm. “But this is a wake-up call. You need to understand how your sister has worked so hard, and how important it is that you start contributing. No one’s saying you have to do it alone, but you have to start doing something.”

Your sister’s eyes shifted between the two of you, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of guilt in her expression. She glanced back down at the contract, and you handed her a pen.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it. I’ll pay you back.” Her attitude and defiance slowly faded from her face.

“Good.” You nodded, “then sign it.”

She hesitated for only a moment before scribbling her signature across the bottom of the contract. You felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness, knowing you had to be this tough, but also hoping it would be the turning point she needed.

“You can stay with us while you’re in Monaco,” you told her, “but I expect you to find a job as soon as possible. If you fail to keep up with your end of the deal, there will be consequences. Understood?”

“Understood.” She nodded, though her expression was still a mix of resentment and defeat.

You exhaled, feeling a small sense of relief wash over you. This wasn’t easy, and you hated having to be this strict with her, but it had to be done. Oscar wrapped his arm around you, his touch grounding as soon as you watched your sister head towards the guest room.

“You did the right thing,” he said quietly.

“I hope so,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I just want her to grow up.”

“Don’t worry, she will.” Oscar assured you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. “With you as her sister, she doesn’t have much of a choice,”

Later that evening, the apartment finally fell quiet, dinner was definitely awkward and quiet, but with your sister already tucked away in the guest room, the weight of everything you had said and done began to settle in. You were sitting at the edge of the bed, heart heavy and mind replaying what had happened earlier over and over. The way your sister had looked at you—hurt and angry—it cut deeper that you were willing to admit.

You had always been strong, but this strength had come with a cost. Now, sitting in the stillness of the night, the reality of your actions hit you like a tidal wave. It wasn’t just the contract or the money, it was the fear—the fear that in trying to teach her a lesson, you might have pushed her too far. That in being the disciplinarian, you had damaged something that might never fully recover or heal.

Oscar entered the room quietly, sensing the shift in your mood. He sat beside you, his presence had always been comforting, but it wasn’t enough to stop the flood of emotions you had been holding back.

“Was I too harsh, Osc?” You whispered, voice barely audible.

He frowned slightly, tilting his head to look at you. “No, you weren’t. She needed to hear all of it.”

“I know,” you replied, voice trembling. “But what if I lose her because of this? What if she hates me for it?”

You felt your tears welling up again, but this time you couldn’t stop them anymore. They spilled down your cheeks, unchecked, as you finally let go of the tension and frustration you had been carrying.

“I’m not being harsh to punish her, I just want her to understand how hard life is, how much I’ve sacrificed. But what if all she sees is me being cruel?”

Oscar pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you broke down. You rested your head on his chest, sobs coming in waves, guilt and fear crashing over you. You had always been strong for so long—too long—and now, it felt like everything was unraveling.

“She’s my baby sister,” you choked out between sobs. “I don’t want to lose her. But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want her to think I’m just some heartless person who only cares about money.”

Oscad held you tighter, his voice calm and steady as he spoke. “She won’t hate you. Not forever. She’s upset now, sure. But she’s young, and right now, she probably doesn’t understand why you’re doing this. But she will, trust me. One day, she’ll look back at it and realize that you did this because you love her.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening with the weight of your emotions. “I feel like I’m always the one who has to be the bad guy. I never get to be the one who’s just there for her, to support her without judgment.”

Oscar stroked your hair gently, his voice soothing. “You’ve done more for her than anyone else ever could. You’ve given her everything. You’re not the bad guy, you’re her protector, even when it means being tough on her. Yeah, maybe this will cause a rift for now, but it won’t last. She’ll come around, she’ll see that you’re doing this because you care.”

You pulled away slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “What if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” Oscar said firmly. “But even if it takes time, you can’t keep beating yourself up for doing what’s right. You’re teaching her a lesson that no one else will. You’re giving her the tools to grow up, to be responsible. Sometimes, that means being tough. That’s tough love.”

You nodded, but the guilt still gnawed at you. “I just wish I didn’t have to be this person all the time. The one who fixes things, who keeps everyone in line.”

“I know. But you’re not doing this alone anymore, okay? I’m here. Whenever it feels like it’s too much, rest on me. You can always rest on me.”

You leaned into him again, his warmth easing the ache that you’re feeling inside of you. “I just hope she understands someday,” you whispered.

“She will,” Oscar said softly, kissing the top of your head. “And until then, you’ve done what you needed to do. You’ve set her on the right path, and that’s what matters.”

As the tears slowly subsided, you felt a flicker of hope, knowing that even though this was hard, it was necessary. Even if your sister doesn't see it now, you could only hope that one day, she would understand that everything you did was out of love.

The weight on your shoulders became a little lighter, knowing that Oscar was right. Even if it took time, even if there were still battles to fight, you knew you weren’t facing them alone anymore, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe. You had done what needed to be done. Now it was up to your sister to follow through.

[spacexseven]

resend time! this works out just fine for me I get to fix my typo hehe. ok onto the aftermath of drunk dazai now. when he wakes up the next morning and manages to pick some memories out of the painful fog of his hangover, he’s BEYOND pissed. nevermind the fact that he was the one that trapped you in his desperate embrace and cried every time you left his line of sight, he never wouldve acted that way if it wasnt for YOU. where the HELL do you get off thinking you can humiliate him like that in front of his inferiors? stupid fucking dog. he’s been too soft on you lately, hasnt he? have you forgotten who you’re dealing with? he’ll make you PAY for this, you wont suffer this much if you live one million years, mark his w-

in the middle of his mental tangent about how much he despises you for making him feel things, something catches his eye. a tall glass of water with a few little white pills next to it. he doesnt remember getting himself that. he doesnt even drink water. he’s certain he doesnt have these pills in his cabinets either (he isnt allowed to have any medications in his home), what even were they? then he notices the note the glass was placed on, written in handwriting he’d recognize anywhere was “take these if your head hurts. try to drink the water as well, it might help.”

...ah. so, you left this for him, then? that’s… nice… of you… he runs his thumb over your lettering, trying to ignore the way his entire body trembled with excitement. you… you actually thought to do something to take care of him… you must have had to run out to the store yourself to get him these pills, right? you went out of your way like that just for him… you went out while thinking about HIM, nobody else. and you did it without being asked! you even wrote him something! now he has something with your handwriting on it FOREVER! hehe, he’ll have to find a special place for it. maybe he could frame it? no, keep it in his wallet! but oh, what if someone steals it? he wouldnt be able to let that slide, would he? stealing a present from his beloved… 

he cant help but break out into manic little giggles while his face goes from deathly pale with fever to deep red. he presses a little kiss against the note before setting it down so he can take the medicine you left for him. you left just a few pills for him instead of the bottle (for reasons you can probably guess), so he savors each of them as the idea of having something in his mouth and you actually touched with your hands coaxes a low moan out of him. he lays back down in a fit of giggles and crushes a pillow into his chest. he supposes he can let your behavior slide… just this once. as a matter of fact, he might even think up a few… rewards, for when he gets back <3

- 🩹

this is a bit too cute for subordinate au dazai But its ok

dazai isn't used to being cared for—he usually doesn't even care for himself. a small part of him is convinced the action was meant to be humiliating—you leaving him pills to take for a headache like he couldn't handle a couple of drinks—but the larger part of him, is a little touched.

more than a little.

knowing you went out of your way to get him medicine, even cleaning up the constant clutter in his room so he could find it easily...it made him feel a sort of happiness he hadn't in a long time. a warm, gentle feeling. wordlessly, he traces your lettering with his finger, relishing in the evidence of your effort. even your writing was so characteristic of you, and if he tried hard enough, he could imagine you crouched over the little table, scribbling out your message quickly on a paper you found lying around. did you use one of his pens or one you had on you? he couldn't tell, but he would have liked to hold on to the one you used.

still, when he swallows the pills you left, he thinks it's almost as though you're there. if he ignores the facts, he can pretend you're just outside, waiting for him to go out and greet you with a kiss. maybe, you were in the kitchen, cooking breakfast, or in the living room, putting away opened but unfinished books. he stares longingly at the silent washroom, thinking it would be nice to wake up to the sound of running water instead, knowing someone was in there, brushing their teeth or washing up.

but this was a start, right? the note, the obvious care in your actions. dazai, before he can think about it, places a light kiss on the paper. almost immediately after, he pockets the sheet, feeling oddly lightheaded. when he sees you again, he'll be sure to let you know he appreciated your feelings.

[wondernimbus]

veritaserum — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

request: Hi I want to request a Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw reader please! a spell gone wrong makes Malfoy can say nothing but the truth throughout the day. Scared but too embarrassed to approach a teacher, he decided to go to y/n instead because she’s the top student of their charms class to help undo the spell but what he didn’t consider is how he would later straight out confess his attraction towards her, going on and on about her hair, her eyes, etc and they just share a heart-to-heart moment

a/n: i did Not proofread this so i apologize in advance if there r any typos!! also i made a v minor change to the req but other than that bon appetit

Someone spiked Draco's morning pumpkin juice.

It would have been really helpful if he'd noticed it before he laughed at Snape's face and called him a greasy git, after which his eyes grew comically wide and and he tried to hurriedly apologize (more out of fear for his parents than Snape)—only for his mouth to tell Snape to "go wash your hair for bloody once".

Veritaserum. Someone put blithering Veritaserum in his drink, and now he can't open his mouth without spitting out several of his deepest, darkest secrets.

"Two points from Slytherin for your uncharacteristic and very offensive behavior, mister Malfoy," Snape had sneered. "I will only tolerate this foolery once. The next time you dare to speak to me like that, I will not hesitate to treat you the same way I would treat any other student."

Draco would have tried to defend himself, but he isn't stupid enough to let another truthful insult slip out by accident, so he'd kept his mouth shut and nodded.

If one were to go into detail, they would tell you about how Draco had tried to ask Madame Pomfrey to help undo the potion's effects only to severely insult the poor old lady's hair, and how he'd also tried to ask McGonagall only to admit the fact that he'd cheated on her transfiguration test two years ago. He has insulted every single person he has tried to talk to so far during the day. He's called Crabbe an illiterate oaf, told a random Gryffindor couple passing by that they look absolutely dreadful together (something that he doesn't really regret blurting out, but he could have lived without letting them know), and admitted to Professor Flitwick that he'd paid someone to do most of his essays.

But if one were to put it simply, they would go like this: Draco is in a dilemma, and he needs help, fast.

Except he has severely offended every single person he has tried to ask for help, and will no doubt do the same for anyone he plans on asking. Draco is desperate. He is halfway through the school day and the effects of the truth serum have yet to wear off. At this rate, he's going to lose all of his friends, as well as lose his teachers' favor.

Draco can't ask a teacher in fear that all of his good grades will slip from his grasp at a single (honest) insult. He can't stick it out for the rest of the day, either, because when he spends too long a time not talking to anyone, it seems that the truth potion grows impatient and starts making him blurt out a bunch of his innermost secrets.

He has already shouted "I peed my pants when I was eight" in the Great Hall; there is no time to waste.

Potions class comes around right after breakfast and brings with it the inevitable need to face Snape again. Uncharacteristically enough, Draco doesn't swagger into the dreary dungeon classroom. Instead, he keeps his head down as he perches himself on his usual seat right—which is, of course, right in front of Snape's desk.

When the last of the students have filed in and Snape closes the dungeon door shut to begin the lesson, he makes sure to fix Draco with a long stare; one that Draco only holds for several seconds before he sniffs and casts his eyes away to look at his desk instead. You'd think that a Potions master would be able to tell when someone was under the influence of a truth potion—but then again Snape might also have known, but was too offended by Draco's jab about his hair.

He looks up sometime along the lesson and catches sight of the light reflecting off of Snape's greasy hair; well, Draco had been telling the truth.

For today's lesson, they're tasked to brew some sort of calming draught. Draco can't entrust Goyle—his partner—to even as much as get the name of the potion right, so Draco shoots the poor boy a familiar scowl and proceeds to do everything on his own. But Draco is no Potions expert, so instead of the faint lilac hue the liquid inside their cauldron is supposed to have turned into, it becomes a violently bubbling pink substance.

"Four slices of the bat spleen, mister Malfoy, not five," Snape drawls, peering down at Draco's cauldron through his hooked nose. "And you have been too heavy-handed on the lavender. Shame. I expected better."

Draco suppresses a sneer. Snape usually never points out his mistakes—that sort of treatment is reserved for other houses. Snape, it seems, took his insult to heart, the greasy-haired bloke.

Feeling severely irked, Draco slumps down in his seat, folds his arms over his chest, and stops trying entirely. He may be acting like a sulky five-year-old but so be it because Draco is not in the mood. He has humiliated his own self far too many times in one day (and been humiliated by Snape approximately ten seconds ago)—he wants this day over, fast, and with any luck, the Veritaserum out of his system by the end of it.

But he can't see how, so Draco does the only thing that he can do to help himself: he keeps his mouth shut.

The annoyance on his face shows as he surveys the dungeon room with a sour glare. Stupid Potter and Weasley are laughing over something at their shared table; why isn't Snape telling them off? Bloody slimeball. How dare he even speak to Draco like that? It's not like Draco lied. He has never seen anyone in such dire need of shampoo as Snape.

Draco shoots the back of his head a nasty glare from where he's standing all the way on the other side of the room, looming over a table of two Ravenclaws. One of them looks bored and the other seemingly immersed in potion-making; her movements are quick and precise as she pours one ingredient after the other into their cauldron with the same kind of effort Draco would put into making his afternoon tea—like what she's doing is an absolute piece of cake.

"Sit up, mister Corner," says Snape curtly, voice echoing throughout the dungeon and ceasing all chatter as he fixes the bored-looking Ravenclaw with a stony gaze. Draco recognizes him now—Michael Corner, some annoying half-blood he shares a few classes with. As for the girl beside him.. Draco tries to angle his head to see her properly, but her head is bowed over her cauldron and her hair blocks her face from view. "If you think you'll be getting the same outstanding grade as miss [Y/L/N] without even as much as lifting your pinky finger, then I assure you, you are terribly mistaken. I do not tolerate free riders."

[Y/N]. Draco knows her. Some Ravenclaw he has several classes with but has never spoken to—the one with the pretty eyes, Draco vaguely recalls himself thinking at one point, back when he'd first laid eyes on her. And truth be told her eyes are pretty; a lovely shade of [Y/E/C] that Draco has only seen up close once or twice.

But that is hardly the topic of concern, because if Draco turns his head just the right way and sits up a little straighter, he can see that the liquid inside of her cauldron has turned a glossy shade of faint lilac, which, according to the instructions written on the board, is what is exactly supposed to happen. [Y/N] finishes faster than anyone else, even Hermione Granger, and Draco sees Snape give her an appraising nod before moving on to criticize some other innocent student.

So it seems Snape isn't the only Potions expert in the room.

He perks up a little in his seat and fixes the Ravenclaw girl—[Y/N]—with a discreet stare out of the corner of his eye. [Y/N] sits down properly in her seat so that Draco gets a good view of her face (not a bad-looking one, an annoying little voice says inside his head). She hasn't even broken out in a sweat—it seems that potion-making isn't as difficult for her as it is for other people. Draco pictures the truth serum in his veins quivering in fear (although physically impossible) because he is pretty certain he's found the answer to his dilemma.

The rest of the class passes by annoyingly slow—or at least for Draco—because it seems like ages until Snape finally dismisses them for lunchtime. Draco just about jumps right out of his seat and strides straight towards [Y/N], who is currently in the process of stuffing her books inside her bag.

Draco clears his throat.

She turns around, and he's suddenly reminded of why he'd dubbed her as "the one with the pretty eyes", because she truly does live up to the name. Her eyes are strikingly [Y/E/C]; even the whites of her eyes look like they're tinted with gold. He finds himself incapable of speech for a brief moment, but then she raises her eyebrows and offers him a grimace of a smile, and Draco is back to himself again.

He opens his mouth to say "brew me something that'll stop me from blurting out the truth every bloody second" but instead what comes out is: "I've never spoken to you before but that's mostly because I have an irrational fear that I haven't quite admitted to myself yet which is that I'm scared of talking to pretty girls in fear that they'll reject me and my pride will be in tatters."

There's a split-second in which Draco stands there, his own words not having sunken into him yet, and then his face slacks.

[Y/N] stares at him, evidently baffled. And then she opens her mouth, eyebrows furrowed in apparent bewilderment, and says, "Um," she swallows, forcing out an awkward laugh as she takes a step back. "Wow. Okay. Thank you..?"

If Draco had been thinking straight—if he hadn't been so flustered and if he wasn't rushing to take back his words—he would have probably paused, realized that talking would have made the situation worse, and left. But Draco is flustered and he isn't thinking straight, so instead he opens his mouth to take his words back only for the following words to leave his mouth in a rapid burst: "Your eyes are a really lovely shade of [Y/E/C] and you have a beautiful smile and I've never heard you laugh before but I bet my inheritance that it's one of the loveliest sounds to ever exist."

[Y/N] looks flabbergasted more than ever. She doesn’t even look flustered—just utterly confused. For a few seconds, all she does is stare at him, frowning.

And then, looking as though she wants to thank him but not entirely sure it would be appropriate, her gaze darts away from his momentarily before she purses her lips. Excruciatingly slowly, she repeats, “Your.. inheritance.”

Draco grits his teeth.

Apparently there are several truths that the Veritaserum in his system thinks appropriate to reveal to [Y/N]—truths that even he hadn't been fully aware of. He opens his mouth, thinks better of it, and closes it again. At that moment he catches sight of the quill and parchment in her hands that [Y/N] had been in the process of stuffing into her bag; hurriedly, he grabs it from her (much to a surprised [Y/N]) and begins to write down the following words (seriously, why hadn't he thought of this before?): accidentally drank truth potion, brew me a remedy.

He practically shoves the parchment into her hands. Still looking wildly confused, she takes it from him with the cautiousness of someone being handed a firecracker. Her eyes dance across the words on the paper for no more than two seconds before she looks back up at him; realization slowly floods her face and her eyebrows rise even higher as she mouths, mostly to herself, "Truth potion."

Draco nods, eyes darting around the classroom. most of the class has already left. Snape is at his desk, fixing the two of them with a frosty stare. When Draco meets his gaze, Snape flicks his eyebrows up at him and asks, in that same drawling voice Draco despises today, "I was under the impression that lunch time meant all students had to be at the Great Hall."

Draco's brain doesn't operate well when he's annoyed—that's something he's realized today. Against his better judgment, he opens his mouth to sneer a retort without even pausing to think about the fact that he might blurt out some other offensive truth, but [Y/N] cuts him off and says, "I'm sorry, professor, but Malfoy's asked me to help him with homework and I thought it'd be nice to help him." She stuffs the piece of parchment into her robe and side-steps Draco so that he's not blocking her from Snape's view. "Would it be okay if we stayed here for lunchtime?"

Snape's lip curls in apparent amusement. Staring at Draco, he drawls, "That’s quite convenient. I had been thinking of assigning mister Malfoy a tutor; it seems he's been having trouble holding his tongue—alas," his mouth twists into a sneer, "I meant potion-making. Forgive me."

And then he heads to the dungeon door, leaving Draco behind to stare at his greasy head on his way out.

[Y/N] purses her lips, cheek twitching with the threat of a smirk. "I’m guessing you've offended him somehow? Veritaserum and all?"

Draco opens his mouth again—really, remembering to keep it shut is easier said than done—and instead of the reply he'd been intending on saying, what slips past his lips is: "Has anyone told you you're one of the prettiest—"

"Okay!" [Y/N] 's eyes widen and she rushes to clamp her hand over Draco’s mouth, looking actually flustered now. "Okay—stop. Just.." Slowly, she pries her hand away from his lips, movements cautious, and Draco stares at her, body completely rigid as he registers the fact that they're a mere few inches away from each other and she'd just put her hand over his bloody lips. And this is the first time they've ever spoken to each other.

"I’ll brew you the remedy," she says, grimacing. There seems to be a hint of a faint pink blush spreading across her cheeks, but that could just be because the dungeon lighting is poor. She turns on her heel and makes her way to the ingredients cabinet all the way on the other side of the room, calling over her shoulder to Draco, "Just sit tight there—and keep it zipped before you say anything you don't mean."

The last part she says in a quieter tone, but Draco catches her words anyway and he finds himself thinking that maybe he did mean them.

Because [Y/N] is pretty—prettier than most. She’s not breathtakingly beautiful, but there's something about her that seems to have always drawn Draco, though he might not have ever thought much of it. Maybe it's why he always finds himself staring at her whenever they come across each other in the hallway. Maybe it's why he'd thought of asking her to the Yule Ball last year, but chickened out at the last moment.

He leans on the desk, arms folded across his chest whilst watching [Y/N] rummage through the ingredients cupboard. A moment later she turns around bearing an armful of different potion vials.

Draco means to ask her if she needs help carrying them (because yes, he may regularly be a prick but he has common courtesy). Instead, the Veritaserum still inside his bloodstream urges him to say, "I wish I’d asked you to the Yule Ball last year instead of Pansy."

He freezes.

At that moment, Draco swears to himself that he will inflict pain onto whoever poured Veritaserum into his pumpkin juice. He will have his revenge—no matter what it takes—and although he hasn't quite figured out how exactly he'll be doing it, all Draco knows is that he will.

He can't bring himself to look at [Y/N] any longer, so he plays it off by picking up a book on the desk he's leaning on and rifling through it. It only takes him a moment to realize that it's [Y/N]'s; her name is written across the bottom of the cover. Almost every page Draco flips through has tiny scribbles written in-between the lines—countless of notes, it seems, but so many of them that the actual text is almost indiscernible. Draco almost snorts. [Y/N] seems to be the quintessential Ravenclaw, if he has ever seen one.

She sets down the potions onto the desk, Draco still flipping through the pages. "I’d ask you how you accidentally drank Veritaserum," she says casually, "But I don't want you fawning over me even more than you already have."

Draco glances at her out of the corner of his eye. She’s in the process of uncorking two of the vials, both of which she pours into the now steaming cauldron. Whatever, he thinks to himself, rolling his eyes in an effort to convince himself that he's not embarrassed (even though he totally is: he's bloody blushing).

But then again, whatever. He’s totally not flustered. Totally.

Draco reaches the final few pages of [Y/N]'s Potions textbook without having even registered most of the ones he'd flipped through. The last two pages, like every other book, are completely blank save for the—

Draco's eyebrows furrow. There are drawings of all sorts on the back pages of her textbook, from cauldrons and brass scales to places in the castle that Draco recognizes.

But what has him most intrigued is the faces, all drawn so vividly and with so much detail they look as though they had been brought to life on paper. Draco sees Snape’s deprecating sneer and Michael Corner’s familiar face of boredom, sees Hermione Granger with her brows knitted together at the middle as she leans over her cauldron, Ron and Harry with their heads bowed over a piece of parchment—and then he sees himself, arms crossed over his chest as he fixes something with a stony gaze. But the more Draco’s eyes explore the pages, the more of himself he sees. There’s him slicing what looks like a dragon heart, scowling at someone that looks like Goyle, and another one of him smirking—

And then the book is snatched from his grasp by none other than [Y/N] who looks wildly panicky. "You—I—" she blubbers, gaping at him for a moment before whipping around, turning her back on him as she stuffs the book into her backpack. "How much did you see?"

Slowly, a grin breaks out on Draco’s face. "Enough," he says—and apparently it's the truth, because it's what he actually meant to say. A little surprised, he tries his luck again and means to say so you draw? But instead what leaves his lips is something so excruciatingly blunt and embarrassing part of him wants to dive under the table and hide there for the rest of his life: "I’m assuming because you've drawn me more than anyone else that you find me attractive so I’m going to go ahead and thank you for that, but unfortunately you're a half-blood so I might have to get my parents' permission before I think of asking you out."

A moment of silence, only interrupted by the sound of the antidote bubbling. Draco has to physically suppress himself from diving straight into the cauldron and never coming back out.

[Y/N] scoffs a little, uselessly fanning her face with her hand like doing so will somehow rid her of the blush on her cheeks. Draco grits his teeth and fixes his gaze on the stone floor, refusing to meet her gaze.

She clears her throat in an attempt to quell the sudden burst of suffocating awkwardness now resting between the two of them. Not quite looking at him, she peers into her cauldron and mutters, "I just like to draw all sorts of things. People, as you've seen," she adds, pressing her lips together abashedly. Draco watches her out out of the corner of his eye, lips twitching. "And I don't find you attractive. You just have.. a nice face. For drawing, I mean. It comes out nice on paper."

Draco’s eyebrows flick up of their own accord. He has a nice face. Are those butterflies he feels in his stomach, or is it just the Veritaserum?

It takes no more than a minute or two of silent awkwardness before the antidote is finally finished brewing and [Y/N] pours it into a small vial, which she hands to Draco.

Draco eyes it skeptically, holding the vial up to the light and swirling it around a little. It definitely doesn't look pleasant; a stark contrast to the clear hue of Veritaserum, the antidote is a murky brown in color and vaguely reminds Draco of mud and manure.

You expect me to drink this? Draco means to ask, but instead says, "You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen."

And just like that, Draco, exasperated and embarrassed out of his mind, uncorks the vial and takes a large swig.

The feeling of the liquid sloshing down his throat is an unpleasant one; he coughs a little, face scrunching up with disgust as he swallows down the last of the antidote. But not long after the vial is emptied, a tingly feeling spreads from his fingertips to his entire body and has him feeling weightless for a few moments before it fades and Draco feels normal again.

He sets the vial down on the table, rubbing his throat. When he looks up, he sees [Y/N] already cleaning up, throwing away the empty glass vials and emptying the cauldron with a single flick of her wand.  She’s taking all of her things and shoving them into her bag, and Draco watches as she slings it over her shoulder and makes for the door—

“You’re leaving?” says Draco without really thinking about it. “Already?”

She stops in her tracks and turns around, already a few feet away from him. Eyebrows raised, lips twitching up at the side just the slightest bit, she shrugs. “Well, yes,” she purses her lips. “Was there something else you wanted me to brew?”

Draco’s hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck. “No,” he says hastily. But he hadn’t been expecting her to leave so soon—not after his, ah, countless confessions.

What had he been expecting, though?

“Well, I’ll be going now,” [Y/N] says slowly, a little awkwardly, gesturing to the door. Draco watches her as she takes a backwards step away from him—but he knows a chance when he sees one, so he blurts out, “D’you wanna go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

Her eyebrows rise even higher as a genuine look of surprise floods her features. Draco doesn’t know what the bloody hell he’s onto, but whether or not he regrets it is entirely up to [Y/N]’s answer.

She lets out a breathless laugh, looking dubious. “You’re being serious?”

Draco stares at her for a little while—Merlin, she really does have pretty eyes—and then he shrugs a casual shoulder, nodding.

She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously, but there's still that hint of a faint smile resting on her lips. Draco finds himself wishing he’d see her do it more often—in front of him, and not halfway across the classroom. She feigns a look of contemplation, tilting her head at him, now full-on smiling in a manner Draco thinks might be playful. (Alright, those are definitely butterflies in his stomach.) "And what d'you have to offer?" she asks him, eyebrows raised.

It’s Draco’s turn to narrow his eyes at her, unable to suppress the tiny smile that slides across his face. He pauses to think about his answer first, all the while holding her impish gaze, before finally shrugging and saying, "My company. And not everyone gets to enjoy that," he adds as an afterthought, and it's true—Draco is very picky with who he graces with his presence.

But then [Y/N] replies, "Well, not everyone gets to enjoy mine, either," and her tone is almost challenging. Draco, for some reason, finds himself on tenterhooks. Something about her is drawing him in; he can't quite decide whether it's her coyness or her eyes. Likely both.

Severely amused, he leans on the desk and inclines his head a little towards her. "So would you do me the honor of blessing me with your company this weekend?”

There’s a beat of silence—this time not at all awkward—as they stare at each other, a sort of tension between them that Draco finds himself enjoying. And it's a blessing that she breaks it because if it had stretched on for any longer Draco would have lost himself in her eyes completely; “Alright. Sure. No harm to it,” says [Y/N] with a light laugh, nodding.

Draco’s lips break out into a grin and he nods, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Maybe you can tell me more about your drawings. Well,” he pauses, brows raised teasingly. "Drawings of me, to be specific."

She lets out a scoff, rolling her eyes, but she's laughing. "Okay—and maybe you can tell me about how much you love my eyes."

Draco’s face falls. [Y/N] grins, beginning to walk towards the dungeon doors. "I’ll see you around," she sings, and her back is turned but Draco can hear the smile in her voice. Just before she disappears into the corridor, she pauses at the doorway and looks back at Draco, and her eyes are positively sparkling. "Try not to get lost in my eyes too much. Wouldn’t want you tripping over yourself."

With one last playful grin, she leaves the Potions classroom.

And while, just a few minutes ago, Draco had been prepared to get revenge on whoever put Veritaserum in his pumpkin juice, now he feels like thanking them.

[roger-that-cap]

all the flowers will bloom

summary: you would have never tried to leave your mother if you knew that bringing that pomegranate tree back to life was your ticket to the underworld. or, maybe you would have, because it turned out that hades was quite the opposite of the evil goddess that you had been drilled to know.

warnings: honestly nothing, really! well, i’m busting out this chapter once again, before i go into work so there are most likely typos!!

background: so this is inspired by the myth and stuff, but there are for sure some differences!! the world of mythology is so so intricate and it’s hard to get everything down and accurate- so i took the liberty to not LMAO

word count: 3.1k

You remembered having a slightly rebellious phase that lasted maybe ten years. It wasn’t long at all in the grand scheme of things, and the things that you did were simply things that people with normal parents did. The type of parents who weren’t afraid of their children being stolen from them. One time, you remembered sneaking into a forest where nymphs you didn’t know were, and they loved you on sight, without even knowing who you were. An even more grand escape involved a human celebration, the solstice to be exact, and a man with sea green eyes. He was taken by you, and for a minute, you remembered being taken by him. You were loved by everyone who knew you, and by those who only met you briefly, even the older gods. 

  So why had you not heard of anyone coming to get you? It had only been a few hours, but you knew that your mother had already gone crazy. She had some kind of danger meter when it came to you, and you were surprised that she hadn't sensed the fact that you were scared and somewhere unfamiliar yet. You used to hate the danger meter that always seemed to know when you were up to being the young soul you were, but now you were counting on that bothersome danger meter. 

   Hades had been kind enough to show you to where you would be staying herself. You expected a ghost or some sort of half dead spirit to give you a tour of the place, the one place  you were never supposed to be, but she did it herself. She was rather monotonous, and she sounded like she would rather be counting the souls in her domain one at a time, but she did it. The short tour ended with the door slamming in your face after you told her that your mother would be searching for you, and then there you were. 

 There were no windows in your room, and you weren’t even sure that you wanted any in the first place. The windows in your home showed beautiful mountains and valleys and there was even a meadow, but the Underworld was nowhere near as beautiful to you. You missed your colors, you missed singing to the flowers and coaxing soil into being healthy enough to grow crops. It hadn’t even been a full day, and you were facing from withdrawals. And you were too scared to even address the fact that you could still smell the death, and that you could still feel it lingering around you even after the Lady of the Dead cast whatever spell that she did. 

  It felt like you were being sucked from the life that was always naturally within you, and it was terrifying. 

 The room was just as dark and dismal as the rest of the Underworld, or, at least what you had seen of it. It was depressing and gloomy, and it made you feel like a prisoner. With every passing second, you regretted not listening to your mother. You sat on the stiff bed, your eyes welling with tears as the extent of what happened started to sink in. Your hands shook as you wiped your cheeks, even though the action was useless against the new army of tears that were marching down your face, rounding the curve and clinging to your skin. 

You knew what was happening. You replenished the tree. You fixed it, and with fixing the historical tree that you should have known about, you ultimately and unintentionally signed your life away, consenting to being stolen down into the Underworld until you could fix the entire Elysian Garden. You thought it was an impossible feat, and if by the grace of all the Olympian Gods you did succeed, it would be years before you finished. A sob escaped your throat and you turned to lay on your stomach, sobbing into the pillow that was less than comfortable. 

You were going to be dead before you even got a look at flowers again. 

§§

Before you even realized that you fell asleep, you were being woken up by the feeling of death grasping at you, tickling every hair on your body. You rolled to the side to catch your breath on the hard bed and let yourself cry again, the pitiful noises so loud that you didn’t even hear anyone approaching you. 

 Two hands grabbed you and turned you on your back, and you coughed weakly at the ceiling. “It should work,” you heard a voice mutter, and then there was a warm palm right on your throat, the other above your sternum as you tried to catch your breath. All you could focus on was the warmth, the sheer warmth that you expected to find nowhere in the realm of the dead. As your airways unclogged, you turned to the side and hacked again, breathed in and out a few times, and then turned to look towards the person who saved you. 

  She looked different. Somehow, she looked even more intimidating in the all black clothing she was wearing. It was a far cry from a dress, and closer to the suits that you saw humans wear. She was staring down at you with her calculating and cold eyes, examining you and surely judging. You made your own judgement. “Why are you so warm?” 

 Her hard expression faltered. “What?”

You narrowed your eyes at her, forgetting for a moment that she was as old as dirt and that she could easily take your breath away without any effort. “How are your hands so warm?” you got utter silence from her, and you knew that she was cursing at you in her head. “You’re dead.” 

 There was the tiniest hint of a smirk on her face. “I’m not dead. I’m a god, I don’t die.”

You didn’t think you could, either, but you had been at Death’s door twice already within twenty four hours. “How are you the Goddess of Death and the Underworld if you’re not dead?” 

“Are you not the Goddess of Agriculture?” She asked, one of her brows arched. “Then why are you not a stalk of corn?” 

 You shook your head. “That’s not the same.” 

She gave you a look. “It certainly is.” 

“How are you ruling over a group of people without ever knowing how it feels to be the way that they are?” You asked. 

 “You do not know how it feels to be a flower, yet you make them grow.” She reasoned, and you shook your head adamnely. “I do not have to be able to die to know how someone feels. I have witnessed it for years and years.”

“But I do know how it feels to be a flower,” you corrected, voice soft as you began to slip onto the mindset you got when your bare feet touched the grass. “I feel every living thing near me, all the time. I can feel the energy that comes from flowers. I can feel the way they drink up the sun and the rain, and the way they weave their roots into the ground. I can feel seedlings sprouting from the soil, and I can feel buds coming alive to show petals. I know how it feels to be a flower, and a tree, and a shard of grass, and a stalk of corn. That’s why I do so well with them.” 

  It was silent between the two of you as you got an eyeful of her, and she did the same to you. You found  yourself staring into her eyes, and you noticed that they held more color than Bucky’s seas. Her eyes might have been the most colorful thing in the kingdom she ruled. She blinked, and you stopped your staring. “Will you bring that same confidence to my garden?”  

“I do not know if I can fix something so dead.” 

“My tree had been dead for thousands upon thousands of years, and you made it bloom again.” 

“It wasn’t surrounded by death,” you pointed out, and she crossed her arms. “I mean, well, it was, but not like everything down here is. This place drains me.”

“It will until you accept that you’re here,” she said, and you scowled at her. “You will wake up in pain until you understand that you’re here. It’s a side effect of dying.” 

  Your heart raced in your throat. “Dying?” 

“You’re not dead, not yet.” When you gave her a horrified look, she smirked. “A human would be dead the second they arrived, but because you’re a god, it will work slowly for you.”

  “Are you saying that I have a literal deadline?” You asked, voice wavering slightly as you tried to be brave while thinking about all the ways you could possibly get the godforsaken garden to grow, and as fast as possible. If you didn’t see your mother again in one piece, there would be hell to pay. She would find a way to resurrect you to kill you all over again. 

 “As long as you let me take the death out of your system, you’ll live long enough to fix my garden.” 

You figured that was what her touch was doing to you. You remembered someone touching your throat after you fell, and you knew it was her. She took the death out of you, but it still hovered over your skin, anxious to get back inside of you and eat you whole. It knew just as much as you did that you had no business being there. At least, not alive. 

You knew that the likelihood of you being able to fix the garden was slim to none. Part of you wanted to say no to save yourself from the humiliation of pushing yourself. You were supposed to be an expert at growth, some even said you were better at growing than your mother. She focused on the big picture, getting out as many crops as possible and sometimes forgetting quality, but you took your time. She was more powerful than you by miles and miles, but maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe you could do it. You were going to have to, if you wanted to leave. “Has anyone else ever tried to grow your garden?” 

 The Goddess of the Underworld was so silent that you thought she didn’t hear you, but when you looked over at her, she was staring right at you with her undead eyes, an unreadable look on her face. “One.”

  You nodded and looked at your hands, and the flowers that were hanging on to life by a thread. You shook your head and sighed, and then sighed again. “I would like to see what I’m working with.” 

     §§

Hades walked quickly, but her steps lacked urgency. She walked with her head held high without even knowing it, and her steps were so loud that it cleared every dark and bare hall that they echoed in. Her subjects held the image of her with respect, and you saw every single one of them at least bow their heads to her. She kept her eyes forward, never once looking back at you to check that you were following. She stepped into an elevator-like contraption and looked forward once you stepped in the space next to her, and looked at the buttons on it. 

“This is… fancy.” 

“Did you think there were stairs to every single level?” She asked, and you pursed your lips. “That’s a lot of walking.” Her finger hovered over a button, number two, and then you realized that you were on the middle ground, the third level. “You aren’t to go on any of the levels but the third by yourself, do you understand?” 

 You held back your scowl at being told what to do. “Why not?” 

“The first level is the entrance to my kingdom. There are plenty of wailing souls and rivers that no living thing should ever see. It would give you quite the shock.” Your brows shot up. You didn’t expect for her to give you a reason, and maybe it was because your mother never really gave you any good ones. “The second level, which is where we’re going, is for the best of humanity. It’s full of honorable humans and demigods. That level is called Elysium.” 

You knew of that level. Everyone who had swooned and fawned over Achilles made sure that Hades put him in Elysium after he died, where he would be with all of the other warriors and scholars. Even your mother favored the young man, but it wasn’t enough to get her to beg to Hades. You were starting to irrationally fear that nothing was going to be enough to get her to beg the woman, maybe not even you. 

“The third layer is the Asphodel Meadows. There's not many things left that make it a meadow, but it’s for the typical human. It was designed for people who haven’t done wrong nor good, the ones who didn’t particularly make a mark on the world and those around them in a good or bad way.” 

“I’d bet a few people I used to know are there now,” you said softly, and she looked over at you with a confused look on her face. You shrugged at her, thinking that she was judging your human friends  for not doing any spectacular deeds in their short lifetimes.  “My friends, I think they may be there now.” 

“You make friends with humans?” 

“I make friends with anyone and anything,” you said. “If they allow me to.” 

She stared at you for a long moment, and then started to talk again before finally pressing the button. “The fourth level is nothing more than a thick layer between the third and the fifth, which is Tartarus. You know that.” You did. You knew that only the worst of people, and the Titans, resided there. Humans who killed for fun or did major harm went to Tartarus, the lowest level of the Underworld, and the most torturous.  “Never attempt to go into the fifth level.”

You didn’t want to. No one wanted to see Tartarus with their own eyes, and hear what no doubt was screams and sounds of pain and anguish. It was a world full of punishment for horrific crimes, and it was no place for someone like you to be. She surely didn’t have to tell you twice. 

“Where’s your dog?” You blurted, and she gave you a mildly annoyed look as she waited for you to elaborate. “You have a three-headed dog.” 

She breathed in through her nose and rolled her eyes at you, but you were looking at her face closely enough to see that a small smile was threatening the corners of her mouth. “Cerberus is destructive. He guards the gates of the Underworld, which means you will probably never meet him.” 

“Oh.” You couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing such an unusual and rumored to be humongous dog was enticing, but you didn’t want to see souls getting carted off while screaming, either. The doors opened, and she stepped put first, once again not even worrying about if you were following her. The second that you stepped out of the closure of the four walls, you were met with something that you never thought you would see in the Underworld. 

  There were remnants of colors all around, like there was once a beautiful set up that could have rivaled the above ground. You saw dead ivy crawling on walls of the cave-like walls, and you could feel the crunch of dead grass beneath your feet. Death was swirling all around you, and even though you felt sick, you couldn’t help but push that feeling aside for curiosity. You could almost picture everything in your mind. This place was without a doubt, once very alive. 

  “How did it use to be so alive?” You whispered, mostly talking to yourself as you forgot that the Goddess of the Underworld was standing feet from you, watching you take everything in. “It used to be gorgeous, I can feel it.” Your frown quirked upwards just a bit as you stepped forward and then went downwards again once you felt a familiar yet faint feeling, and once you touched a leaf with your pointer finger, you were slammed with it. “This… my mother did this.” Your head whipped towards Hades, who was watching you with a bored expression. “This is my mother’s work, that’s why it felt so familiar. She was here?”

“She’s the one who made this garden, young god.” When your face went slack, she smirked. “Not out of the kindness of her heart, I will admit. Steve made her.” 

“Why?” 

“Because even the dead deserve something beautiful to look at.” When you started to open your mouth, she held a delicate yet strong hand up, halting your lips from moving. “I know what the above grounders think about us. It’s called the afterlife for a reason, you know. These are people down here, regardless of whether you want to believe it or not. So, yes, they deserve something as simple as a meadow.” 

You let her words sink in and echo softly against the walls as you stared at the dead plants, struggling to hold onto the last bits of your mother’s energy that still lingered. “Did they die because she left them?” 

Hades frowned. “They died because she killed them.” 

You shook your head adamantly, quickly denying her claim. “My mother doesn’t harm land. She never has, and she never would.”

“What makes you so sure that she’s not spiteful and hateful towards me that she wouldn't do that?” 

“My mother-”

“Is a harsh woman. She is as punishing as she is gracious, and you know that. Your mother and I never liked each other, and it only got worse as the years went on.”

You knew that your mother’s hatred for the goddess before you ran deep. You doubted that it was deep enough for your mother to harm the earth, but you never knew. Hell, you never knew that your mother had ever even been to the Underworld.  “I don’t think I’ll be able to revive what my own mother has destroyed,” you admitted. “She’s much stronger than me. If she really did kill it like you said she did, then I don’t think I’m powerful enough to reverse it.” 

A staring competition happened right there between the two of you, her eyes the same calculated look as always and yours holding the one that pleaded for understanding, for release. “You’d better figure it out, flower girl. Preferably before your mother decides to wage a war for you.” 

 The goddess turned to walk away, and when you caught sight of her back, your lips opened before you could even stop them. “What’s your real name?” 

  She stopped in her tracks without turning around, but you saw the tension grow in her back. “Why?” 

“I’m not going to call you by the name that the humans do,” you said, not even bothering to contain the scoff you wanted to give. “I try to call everyone by the names that they have given themselves.” That, and the name was meant to be scary. It was supposed to intimidate and incite fear into people, and you weren’t scared of her. She showed no side of herself that made you think that she was anything like your mother said she was. 

  She turned around slowly, her face expressionless and she looked you right in your eyes in a few moments of silence. “I renamed myself Natasha.”

  Natasha. For a split second, you wondered where she got the name from. Did it come to her in a vision? Did she read it in a book somewhere? Did she take it from a human she admired? Did she even spend time admiring humans? “Then I will call you that.” 

“You can call me whatever you want to,” she sighed out, turning on her heel again to stalk away from you. 

“You didn’t even ask my name,” you called out, heart racing slightly at the idea of benign left alone in the Underworld, outside of the protection of the room that you had woken up in. 

  “I know enough about you to last me many lifetimes, Persephone.” 

“I-it’s Y/N,” you muttered, but the doors to the elevator shut right on your words, and then you were left alone.   

****

taglist: @teenwonder @saamwilscn @messuhp @username23345 @dontmindmejustreading @bitchuwish @blackxwidowsxwife @anxiousgoldengirl @russianredassassin @dailyavengering @blackluthxr @coxmicbabygirl @alytavzla sorry if i missed anyone!!! you can ask to be removed or added at any time!

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

hello! if you're comfortable answering, do you have any tips for people that want to start translation work? i plan on trying it out just for fun, but i'm scared i'll accidentally mistranslate something or mischaracterize a character with the way i translate their way of speaking, and i'll get crucified by the fandom. any tips for boosting self confidence? thank you!

Congrats on choosing to start your translation journey!

Here's the deal: You will make mistakes. Let's get that out of the way first. No matter how much we wish otherwise, it's impossible to not make mistakes, so forgive yourself for the mistakes you will make as a growing, learning, alive individual and move on.

As I tell my students constantly, there are two types of mistakes:

Conceptual errors

Silly errors

The conceptual error is one that occurs because of a misunderstanding of a concept. It is one that will continue to occur until you correct your understanding. When this kind of mistake occurs, determine what caused the mistake, make a plan to fix it, and execute it. That's all. No need to feel humiliation or embarrassment. You're learning, and how else can one learn without making mistakes? If you already knew everything, then how could you be learning?

The silly error is one that occurs for no good reason - because you had a brain fart, because you made a typo, because you were too tired, etc. These are what people usually call "stupid errors", but that's an unproductive term. The way we talk about ourselves and the world around us shape our perceptions and the way the world eventually becomes. If we call ourselves stupid, we will eventually browbeat and bully ourselves into corners where we feel too ashamed and too untalented to try everything. Instead, why not be silly? Why not take an opportunity to laugh at the ridiculousness of what you just did? I do math on a daily basis and have been doing addition problems for 17 years at least, but every other day I'll proudly say something like, "13 + 4 = 15". Ridiculous! So we'll laugh about it together, then I'll amend that, and we'll keep going on in life feeling nothing but amusement over this. Because you know that I make mistakes, and I know that you make mistakes, so as long as we can go on forgiving one another and ourselves for being imperfect, we can keep moving forward to better and brighter places.

Your translations will not make everyone happy. There will always be someone who will be angry at you merely for existing or some who will be personally offended at your translation style. And so what? Seriously, so what? They are the ones choosing to invest their time and energy into being angry, but there is no need for you to buy into their anger. You have a delete asks button, you have a block button, and you have the right to not give a damn no matter what people say. Have fun with what you're doing, and that will shine through in the strength of your work.

Recently at work, I've had to work on several series I wasn't familiar with prior to seeing them, so I spent a few days reading some of the source material to get a good idea of who the characters were, how they talked, what the tone of the story is, etc. These kinds of initial forays will give you much of the necessary context you need, but there's still a good chance you'll annoy superfans. C'est la vie. If you've ever worked customer service, go about it in the exact same way. Some fans believe that the customer is always right, and you can smile and nod because it's their opinion. They're perfectly entitled to having their own opinion. Then you can go home and completely forget they ever existed because they are not worth your time or space in your mind. Good riddance!

I believe in you. Now get out there and have fun!

[funkymbtifiction]

hi! so i've figured out that my mbti type is probably entp, but i'm having trouble with enneagram. i've narrowed it down to probably either 6w7 or 3w4, both of which can be common in entps, and trying to figure out which is made significantly harder by the fact that 6 can move to 3 and vice versa. tritypes are a whole other can of worms that aren't really a priority right now, but could be confusing things...

Tritypes allow people to mistype by redirecting their attention off their main drive onto figuring out what their fixes might be, so I never encourage anyone to bother with them until they are 100% self-aware of their core behaviors, coping mechanisms, etc. Just having one type and a wing (plus four more numbers -- stress for your core and wing, and growth for both) is more than enough for most people to deal with on a daily basis. ;)

To address some of the things you raised -- 3s aren't as confident on the inside as they seem to be to other people on the outside, because deep down they're fearful that unless they succeed at this, you won't love them. They need to be the best to earn your approval (love). They are an image type. Driven by their emotions, even as thinkers, in terms of needing external affirmation. But they WANT to succeed, they WANT to get into the spotlight for doing something good, and they WANT to win at whatever they put their time and attention to, because their entire sense of self relies on it. Their sense of self hangs in the balance with each project, forcing them to do their best. They have a deep hunger for approval and achievement and assume the only way to be worth something is to get things done, or to be the best, or to take first place, or to chase after that promotion. 3s are afraid that unless they are good at ____, they are "empty." So they model whatever they think others will admire -- which is why in a relationship, they become anxious the more intimate it becomes, because the more someone knows them, the more there's a chance this person they want to love them is going to see beneath the mask they are wearing ("I am what I do / accomplish") and find... nothing. That's what they're afraid of. That their inner self is... nothing.

I would say based on what you sent me, you are a 3 who has had some negative experiences and is falling into Si thinking patterns (there's no use in trying, you'll just fail / humiliate yourself again -- tell Si to shut up, and use Ne to envision a different outcome for yourself) because you don't give much evidence for 6 at all.

As a 6-core Ne-dom myself... I can tell you being a 6 ENP sucks. It's awful. I constantly second-guess myself. I no sooner than I make a decision that I second-guess and question it, and wonder if I am making a mistake. I am terribly risk-adverse and self-conscious. I intellectualize absolutely everything, to an unnecessary degree, and think way too hard about all decisions, large or small. I re-evaluate, question, and over-focus on my relationships. The closer I get to finishing a project that could bring me success, the more anxious I get about disapproval, rejection, or getting it wrong, and the more I over-work it (falling into low 3 behaviors -- what will people think of me???? will they reject me for ONE TYPO???).

And I have had periods in my life where I did that super shitty 6 thing of becoming suspicious of someone's behavior toward me, either becoming convinced of their dislike without proof or treating them with hostility, and then caused them to dislike me for real due to how I treated them. :P Any properly self-evaluated type will have shameful "war stories" about their own behavior -- stressed and at "average health levels" -- to match their type. That's when you know it's real, when you cringe to look back and see this type's pattern woven throughout all your biggest mistakes -- because that's what spurred them on. Your own self. Your coping mechanisms. Your inner drive.

The core sin of a 3 is deceit of self and others. The core sin of a 6 is fear. Think about it in context of what rules your life, even if it makes you cringe. Because where you cringe the most lies the truth.

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

red, white, blues in the skies, summer's in the air and baby, heaven's in your eyes

summary: Can you write a daddy kink and spanking fic with Steve? Hes all about it at first but then all hell breaks lose🥵🥵 You know you said somewhere that Steve's so respectful when fucking you and so THOROUGH. Thank you😘😘 --requested by @donutloverxo

i just want to take a moment to thank you so much for messaging me a while back when my friend moved to california. it was a sad night for me but your messages honestly made me feel better. even the ransom one, which i still need more details on. is he okay? i feel like he would cry. anyway, hope you like this!

warnings: everything. anal. choking. spanking. biting, mentions of blood maybe. don’t judge me. hair pulling. breath play. major daddy shit, you know, the usual.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

a/n: so sorry for any typos! i am about to be late for a tattoo appointment! and for that reason, I know i missed some of the people who asked me to tag them in my chris evans fics so i apoloize! so if i did pls message me and i promise i will add you to my tag list in my phone asap!

The question of how you got here—bent over Steve’s thighs, your ass propped up, stripped naked—could have been given many, varying answers, depended on who you asked. Steve would claim it was attitude, sheer disrespect. You would credit it to him not paying enough attention to you. Why you got here, that only had one answer. Because you wanted to be here.

It started last night. You were out with Steve, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, and Okoye. Okoye and Bucky were, when drunk, very simply, philosophical hippies. They wanted to talk about the universe and how we were all destroying the planet and each other. Sam just got plain annoying and needed to annoy Wanda. It was the weirdest thing, he just needed to get on her nerves. He would get competitive about who was drinking more, he would challenge her to anything. Darts, once, a race back to the compound another. That ended terribly, but neither seemed capable of recalling that past a certain level of alcohol intake.

That left Steve, this authoritative presence—always able to get you wet, but when you were drinking, your friends were surrounding you, acting like children, and he was just there, you were hopeless. He was strong and always so sure of himself, that was what you loved most about him.

Everyone was scattered around the bar. You had disappeared for the restroom and once you got out, Wanda and Sam wrangled you into a conversation about who was a better lead on missions.

Steve was at the table, his phone in sight because he was Captain fucking America. He was the most important man in existence and he always needed to be available for his country, or the world, more accurately. That used to be an issue, before Thanos, before they fixed everything. That used to strain your relationship, never knowing when he was going to be called away. It was rare now, so rare, but his habits were tough to break. He had a beer bottle in his hands, sipping here and there, but mostly, he was watching you. Only you. He came out to be a babysitter, but it was barely a job he took seriously.

He just wanted to be with you.

You made your way to him after it seemed Wanda and Sam had forgotten you were there at all. He set his beer down on the table and took your hips. It was a move of pure control, you couldn’t get away from him, but you also couldn’t get closer to him. “What do you say? Should we call it a night?”

“It’s been an hour,” he pointed out.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “That’s why you haven’t been drinking much.”

“I missed you, daddy.” Daddy? It was a key to the lock that sometimes was Steve Rogers. Was there anything you couldn’t get him to do while you were calling him daddy?

“How much?”

You scoffed. “What?”

“How much did you miss me?”

“What kind of question is that? I miss you a lot when you’re gone. I ache until you’re back home, falling asleep with me, waking up with me. I understand that you’re a Cancer but you’re being so extra right now.”

“No, I’m just being curious.”

“Do you need me to show you how much I missed you?”

“What if I do?”

“Then I will do anything you ask,” you guaranteed, “I would get on my knees right now, daddy. I would let everyone watch me choke on your cock, let them all watch you fuck my face.”

He nodded once. “I don’t think such a grand display is necessary. Especially given that I could just watch you fucking a toy last night, despite my clear instructions that you were not allowed to.”

Your face flushed. “You…were watching me?”

So, it had been a mutual decision to set up a camera in the bedroom. When he was gone and he could call, it just made phone sex easier. When he came home, that sex was always something else. You liked watching it from time to time. However, he was not supposed to be using it to make sure you weren’t breaking rules! That wasn’t fair, that was a major invasion of privacy.

“Yes, I was watching. I missed my baby girl, wanted to see her beautiful face, her stunning fucking body.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Were you going to lie to me?” he questioned. “If I came home and asked you if you had listened to me, what would you have said?”

You glared. “I guess we’ll never know.” You turned on your heels to return to Sam and Wanda, but he grabbed your arm and yanked you back to him.

“Daddy didn’t tell you that you could walk away.”

“Steve,” you warned.

He scoffed. “So, you messed up and now you’re going to be a brat with me?”

“We’re not doing this here.”

“No?” he feigned confusion, reaching for his phone. He tapped the screen a mere three times before turning it to you.

Right—you had stupidly let him talk you into shoving a vibrator in your pussy before you headed out. You’d thought that just meant he missed you incredibly. Clearly not. “Don’t,” you said.

He scoffed. “Baby, I know you didn’t just tell me what to do.”

You glanced back to make sure your friends were preoccupied. “I don’t want to do this tonight, okay? I’m tired and I missed you, you were gone for a long time and I just wanted you to come home so we could spend the night together and have fun. I didn’t think you were going to invade my privacy—”

“Invade your privacy?” he interjected. “You have no privacy, doll, because you’re mine. Normally, you’re fine with that. But you were misbehaving and you need to be punished, so now you suddenly want to pretend it’s a problem? Your dramatics won’t save you tonight.”

He knew you well. And you knew him, he wasn’t going to drop this game. If you said no for an entire year—which, just to be clear, you did not have the ability to do—he would just punish you that very second you finally said yes because he could hold a grudge like it was nothing. Better to get on with it, before he decided to just stop all sexual activity. “Fine. What first?”

“Would you have lied to me?”

“Technically, no.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Can’t wait to hear this one.”

“Well, you always know when I’m lying, so is it lying?”

“Yes, it is. Don’t say something to me if it’s not true.”

You finally moved closer, taking one of his hands in both of yours. He watched you carefully, ready to stop you if you made a single move he didn’t like. You turned his hand and kissed his palm several times. “I love you.”

He scoffed. “And I love you. That doesn’t mean I’m not spanking you until your ass is several different shades of red.”

You huffed. “Well, can we get it over with?”

“No,” he scoffed. “Definitely not.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you knew that would only provoke more of this nonsense.

He turned to the phone again.

“Steve, not in front of everyone—” your words cut off with a yelp before you pressed your hand flat over your lips, desperately trying to silence the sounds you were making. The toy lying against your skin, set just right thanks to the very tiny, tight panties he placed you in, abruptly began to vibrate at a speed you were not prepared for.

Steve caught your arm and kept you steady. “Don’t call me Steve again,” he directed. “Not tonight, doll.”

You only let your hand slip when you couldn’t handle it anymore and needed to speak, not when you had the confidence you wouldn’t humiliate yourself. “Daddy, please—”

“Already begging to come?” He turned it up and one of your legs buckled, he kept a hold on you, mistrusting your ability to stand on your own.

“No, no,” you blurted out. “Stop, please—”

“Apologize.”

You snorted, eyes widening when you realized what you had just done. “I’m—”

And once more, the speed picked up. You grabbed the edge of the table for balance even though you knew he wouldn’t let you fall. You shot him a desperate look and he finally took pity on you, turning off the vibrator all together.

“You’re in for a rough night,” he informed you.

You pretended that was the last thing you wanted to hear, you pretended that you were upset, annoyed, exhausted. That was so far from reality. It had been a while since he went all out to punish you, you almost forgot how much you liked it. But standing there, hoping no one knew what was going on, you were quickly reminded.

Only, when you got home, you didn’t get your rough night. Well, not the one you wanted but his satisfied smirk told you this was what he had always meant. He watched you undress and remove your makeup, then he spent a cruel amount of time just kissing you everywhere, except the one place you needed him the most.

He tied your wrists and ankles to the bedpost. You were sure he was going to fuck you, make you so stupid and obedient that a sincere apology would just fall from your lips. You were wrong.

Instead, Steve elected to get himself off several times and cover you with his cum. You weren’t complaining about that, you loved feeling it on your skin. Your issue was when he untied you and told you to get in the shower before you both turned in for the night. He didn’t even get in with you.

While you were in the bathroom, he took the liberty of picking out what you were going to wear. You couldn’t be much of a tease in a simple oversized t-shirt—which wasn’t his—and leggings. You kept your back to him the entire night, but he circled his arm around you and held you like he was scared he was going to lose you, regardless of your clear anger.

It didn’t end there. When you woke up, he kissed you. It was the kind of kiss that always prefaced something, it was the kind of kiss he always gave you when he came home from a mission—a message of ‘I missed you’.

But as you were pushing on his stomach to get him on his back, he pulled away. He explained to you that he was still upset that you disobeyed him. He gave you the option, he could spank you now and fuck you later, or he would wait until you apologized and meant it.

It was an awful way to wake up, added to the frustration of the night before, your response was rude and vulgar. He merely smirked, kissed your forehead, and slipped out of bed.

Training shirtless in December. Getting way too close whenever he needed to walk by you or around you. Constantly touching you or doing things with his hands when he knew you were watching because he knew you were addicted to his fucking hands. He was shameless. And mean. And you were limited on options because you needed to have sex with this man! But you also wanted to keep your pride intact.

It was like this for several days and just one night less. He would torture you in front of everyone because he knew you weren’t going to act out. Then, the nights were strict. He made you shower alone, made you dress yourself in bland, old clothing, and then it was nothing but actual sleep.

The night it all changed was another night out, only it was a Stark party and that meant the whole gang was going. He couldn’t tell you what to wear if you avoided him all day, so you did. You spent all your time with Wanda and Nat. It was an obscenely early breakfast, then shopping, then brunch because alcohol was needed, and more shopping, up until the team was getting ready for another—undoubtedly—eventful outing.

In your skin-tight, tiny pink dress, Steve was slipping. You could see it in the way he looked at you, in the way his hands were fisted at his sides, his set jaw, and his squared shoulders. Control was fleeting and you were nothing short of smug, which only made him more determined to fight back.

He drove you to Tony’s because you both were trying to appear normal to everyone else. They always made their jokes about the games you two played, so discretion was a must. The aspect of getting caught and not just blatantly being shameless also played a role behind your secrecy.

He inquired about your day because he wanted you to admit what you did. Instead, you were almost wholly honest, you told him that you wanted to spend time with the girls. He didn’t buy it, but he wasn’t going to call you out, not while you were alone. You took advantage of his silence and divulged secrets told to you that you probably shouldn’t have—but this was Steve, he would never tell a soul.

“Wanda says Vision is terrible at going down on her.”

He shot you a look. “Can you not tell me these things about my teammates?”

“Will you help him, baby?”

His eyes went comically wide. “What?”

“You’re just so good at it.”

“You’re insane.”

You sighed. “Fine, just let Wanda suffer.

“I will.”

He was clearly uncomfortable, and you were enjoying it immensely. “Nat says Bucky is really, really good.”

He sighed. “I didn’t want to know that.”

“But I’m sure no one is better than you…remember the last time you ate me out?”

He scoffed. “Pretty sure we were going to a Stark party…it’s been too long.”

“I don’t mind,” you claimed. “I’m always the one that is too impatient to let you, anyway.”

“I always have to tie you up,” he muttered almost more to himself. “But if you were trying to get on my good side…”

“What?”

He jerked the steering wheel right and sped into a parking lot.

“Steve, what are you doing?”

He turned off the car and looked at you. “If you behave now, you might get a reward tonight.”

“Steve, we’re going to be late. The team gets mad when we’re late.”

He didn’t look worried at all. He began angling your body toward him, hands sliding down your sides until he reached your hips. He pulled you closer to the edge of the seat and you took the cue to lean against the door. “Open your legs for me.”

You curled on leg around the side of the seat and pressed the opposite out as far as you could. This was not a good idea, but when were you ever going to say no to him telling you to open your legs? Most days, they just fell open for him.

He ran his hands back up your thighs to move the dress out of his way, smirking as you shivered.

You didn’t care anymore, about anything. You couldn’t stop staring at his lips, completely willing to forget all the shit he had put you through the past few days. His mouth could make you do anything, all he ever had to do was ask.

He started by kissing your thighs because he wanted you to snap at him, to tell him to hurry up. You wouldn’t—screw the team. You would just have to bring up all the times they were late.

His eyes flit up to you several times make sure he had you absolutely wrecked with all his teasing. Your thighs were shaking, tired from how you were using them, but you always knew that he made it worthwhile.

When he finally pressed just the gentlest kiss to your pussy, you shuddered. “Daddy,” you whined. “Please eat my pussy.”

He hummed as if he was contemplating.

“Please, daddy,” you whined. “Please, it’s been so long. I miss it.”

“You don’t prefer the beard?” he challenged knowingly. The beard didn’t always make sense for his cover, sometimes he had to get rid of it. You never let him do so without fucking you just one last time—rough, fast, dirty.

“No,” you denied. “I do not prefer it.”

He arched an eyebrow, ending all those small kisses he was scattering along your skin. “Really?”

“I prefer you, Steve Rogers. Beard, no beard. Long hair, short hair. I don’t care what you look like. I just know, every second of every day, I want you to be fucking me.”

He hummed, tried to pretend it didn’t matter. But it did, because Steve needed a partner that needed him. Not in that gross, misogynistic way most men were guilty of. He needed a partner that sometimes couldn’t think straight, that sometimes couldn’t complete the simple task of living until he was inside them. “Good answer.”

You smiled. “I’m aware.” You fit those requirements well. Yes, you were good and wanted to please him. However, you were also greedy and demanding and sometimes, you threw fits and tantrums, sometimes, you refused to do what you needed to do until he made you come. You felt zero shame about wanting and needing him and you knew the simple fact of desiring him specifically always got him off.

“You really are my good girl,” he feigned realization, as if you hadn’t made it abundantly clear a million times over.

“Yes, I am.”

“And my good girl wants her pussy eaten?”

“Yes, I do.”

He kissed his way up your thigh again and finally, turned to your cunt. He kissed you several more times as you squirmed, then licked up slowly as his eyes were locked on yours.

You shuddered. “Daddy, that feels so good.”

“If you weren’t being such a good girl, I would spank you for not wearing underwear.”

You smiled.

He repeated that same touch several times, looking more and more pleased every sound you made, every jerk of your hips. It was all slow, all calculated movement designed to pleasure you just enough, but not enough. He just wanted to taste you and tease you, and you didn’t mind any of it. This is the most time Steve has spent on you in a while, you were just enjoying his attention.

You were 40 minutes late, messed up hair, flushed cheeks, shaky legs because he didn’t let you come—and everyone knew exactly what it was that had made you late, exactly what you had prioritized over them.

You were insane. You had been driven to that point by Steve Rogers, Captain America—he was a cruel man not that selfless hero everyone got to see. He’d taken you so close to that edge so many times, promised if you were patient that he would make it all up to you.

When he finally lifted your hips and buried his face between your thighs, you were sure your finish was coming. He sucked on your clit mercilessly, tongue swiping out a few times to gather the arousal leaking down your pussy. When you let him know you were close, he set you down on the seat again and told you to put your seatbelt back on.

He had done this before but maybe it was all that time that he had been gone. Maybe it was that his face was wet, his lips redder and fuller than usual, and that he simply smirked and wiped the back of his hand over his skin. It was just different. He was not going to get away with it.

You didn’t say a word for the rest of the drive. Even though he was cooing at you the entire time about how you were his doll and you were beautiful, and he claimed to love you so much. He kept touching your hair and your arm, but you wouldn’t budge.

When Bucky threw you a pitiful look, the whole plan just sort of fell into place. You couldn’t really be blamed, right? He couldn’t consider it your fault—no, at this point, he had to know that anything you did in response to his disproportionate punishment was all on him. He left you alone, didn’t fuck you, didn’t let you come—flirting with Bucky was well within your rights.

It started simple. Bucky was trying to warm up to his metal arm more—the next step in his therapy—and you liked helping. This wasn’t that, necessarily, but you could say you were killing two birds with one stone. You simply walked right up to him and draped his arm around your shoulders. You knew your boyfriend wouldn’t like it because that was what you did to him, it was one of the many ways you liked asking him for attention without using words.

Steve eyed you for nothing more than a second, and neither of you acknowledged it any further, but you knew it bothered him. You’d been given quite a powerful gift one night when Steve had you pressed to the wall, chest to your back, hand to your throat as he fucked you from behind. He had admitted that he was being so complicated—that was a week of hell, one you always shuddered thinking about because you couldn’t walk straight a few days after—because he didn’t like how he felt whenever you would just disappear with Bucky. He promised he wasn’t accusing either of you of anything, it just reminded him of how things used to be with his best friend. You didn’t like flirting with Bucky, but after what Steve had done, it was deserved.

Apparently, he wasn’t too angry since he was on you as soon as you and Bucky separated. He held you as close as possible until he talked you into going outside. Stark parties were always crowded and loud and it wasn’t rare that people would be nearly glued to the side of the building and one another, practically having sex with their clothes on. But it was rare that you and Steve were some of those people.

Yet, he was not hesitant. He led you outside, his fingers linked between yours. As soon as he could, he turned back to you and caged you against the building with his forearms on either side of your head.

He made no further moves, he just watched you. Your skin was itching with desire, but you wouldn’t let him know that. “Did you want something, daddy?”

He smirked a little, shaking his head. “Not much. I just wanted you to know that I’m aware you’ve been good.”

You smiled unintentionally, but it felt nice that he knew you were being good, knew that you wanted something very specific. Him, completely to yourself, just one night. You deserved it.

He leaned down and you tilted your head back to meet his kiss. “Well,” his lips brushed over yours, “that was until you decided to be a brat with Bucky.”

You pulled back, pouting at him.

He arched an eyebrow, challenging you to protest.

“Well, if you’re not going to touch me—”

“I was going to reward you for your patience. Good thing I decided to wait.”

“Are you kidding? I waited for you to come back and then your stupid mission got extended by three days—three, so I broke on the last night. Big deal. Then you get here and you don’t fuck me, and don’t even get me started on the shit you just pulled. I wanted attention and affection and Bucky seemed willing to provide.”

One of his hands wrapped around your throat, his thumb massaging over your pulse point. “So, your grand solution, if I’m not giving you what you want, is to run to Bucky?”

“What if I say yes?”

He glanced around before tightening his hand and looking down at you. “If you say yes, then I’m going to punish you. I’m going to take you to the side of this building, in the alley, get you on your knees, and make you remind me how much you love me. So, baby doll, what’s your answer?”

It was as if he thought you wouldn’t enjoy every second of that. “My answer is yes,” you claimed. “If you’re not giving me attention, I’ll get it from Bucky.”

He took another quick look around before dragging you into the alley just like he said he was going to. Before you could say a word, he was tearing off his jacket to toss onto the floor. He pressed you down onto it by your shoulders, hands then flying to his pants.

By the time you were comfortably settled, hands safely on his thighs, Steve had his cock out for you. Eyes on his, you opened your mouth and swallowed as much of him as you could, slowly because you needed some type of upper hand.

He didn’t let you keep it for long, however. His hand settled at the back of your head and he began fucking your throat like someone who wasn’t just pretending to be angry. Like someone who wasn’t just being the most extra fucking person because he had wanted this the very second that he’d returned home.

You knew better, you always did. He wasn’t mad, you weren’t sincerely flirting with Bucky, you wouldn’t do it again, but he wouldn’t mind if you did—given that you didn’t cross any lines. It was a fun game, but it was time to end this. All this fighting over him watching you, the power struggle, it was done. You just wanted this man to fuck you. You would surrender and you wouldn’t mind it one bit when he had you in bed later that night.

It had to be fast, he couldn’t let you tease. There were people around, people who would undoubtedly gravitate toward the alley. It was pure luck that it was empty at all, but he wasn’t going to waste time being grateful. He was rough sliding in and out of your throat, these quiet grunts just barely audible through all your gagging and the noise of the outside, the people, the cars.

By the time he finished, your throat was sore, tears began running down your cheeks all the way to your neck, drool was starting to slip from your lips. You were a mess, on your knees in an alley, all for Captain fucking America. You never dreamed of being this cool when you were younger, but sometimes things just worked out.

He had leaned onto the brick wall behind you with his forearm, eyes slammed shut, mouth hanging open as he caught his breath.

You waited patiently, despite your declining oxygen and your growing desperation for it. You swallowed when you could, tried breathing through your nose calmly, you didn’t want to have to tell him to pull out. You wanted to keep him for as long as he wanted you to, you wanted him to tell you that you were good with those heart eyes that he always got when you sucked his cock.

He began running his fingers down your hair. “Clean me up, baby.”

You did so as well as you could, but he barely gave you sufficient time before he was pulling you onto your feet.

He leaned in almost immediately to reach down, under your skirt to slide your panties down your legs. You lifted your feet when he needed you to, but mostly, just stupidly stood there. He wasn’t going to fuck you out here, was he? He was a risk-taker, you’d give him that, but an actual gambler? Not quite on that level yet.

He stood, pressing the lace to your chin to dry your face of spit and tears. He was so soft about it, so different than how he had been just moments ago. You watched his face the entire time, blushing terribly at how intently he was staring at you.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart.”

You did so, fully expecting him to kiss you. Instead, he shoved your panties between your lips and was turning away before you could blink. He tucked himself back into his pants with such ease, ease that only came from having super-hearing and knowing for sure that he wasn’t going to be caught.

So, yeah. Long story short, you pushed Steve too far and now he was mad. More than the average amount. Honestly, did he expect you not to retaliate? After he left you alone in the alley without calling you his good girl? If he didn’t see it coming, then he didn’t know you as well as you thought he did.

But he did know you enough. His rough hands had been moving over your ass for the better part of an hour. He’d positioned you in the bedroom so you could see the clock, he wanted you to see that he intended to take him time. He hadn’t spanked you yet and you were just about shaking in anticipation, you knew he had to feel how wet you were.

Yet, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t let you either, any attempt was cut off by some disapproving noise and you were too scared to push him more. Not after what you did…

But you were also impatient. You weren’t trying to be disobedient or argumentative, but you had to communicate with him. He was driving you insane, you weren’t sure you could do this much longer. You cleared your throat a bit. “Daddy—”

“Baby girl, one more time and daddy will have to gag you.”

You immediately shut up. You didn’t want to be gagged. You noticed that when you were less vocal, he was less vocal, and at the end of it all, what was the point of all the theatrics if he wasn’t going to praise you?

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

You just wanted to hear it. That you were good, that he was proud of you. Instead, without warning, his hand struck one side of your ass and you were so surprised that you yelped.

Your hands rushed to your mouth as you turned back over your shoulder slightly to eye him. You saw him smirk, this was obviously what he wanted, but then he tsked at you. “I’m sorry, daddy, I was just surprised. I’ll be quiet, I swear.”

He let his palm rub over the red mark across your skin. He hummed, feigning thought. “I don’t know, doll.” His opposite hand came up to grab your jaw, turning your attention forward again.

You were opposed to the gag, but if he wanted to choke you… You brought both your hands up to his forearm and pressed against it until his hand slid down a bit, settling confidently to your throat.

He scoffed. “Want me to choke you?”

You nodded.

“You can speak.”

“Please, daddy,” you begged.

“After all the misbehaving? Do you honestly think you deserve it?”

“Yes.”

He snorted. “Okay.” His hand wrapped around your neck, so suddenly that the surprised noise you made got caught in your throat. The next time he smacked you, your moan was choked, barely audible.

You were immediately relieved. You weren’t going to have to try to be quiet. He always treated that part like a game, if he told you to be quiet, he would then do whatever he could to make you get loud.

He was hitting harder than usual, hard enough that the only thing keeping you draped over his lap was his hand in front of you that was wound around you. You didn’t mind at all, you always wanted him to let go a little. But of course, he was Steve, and he couldn’t stop being overprotective if his life depended on it.

That he wasn’t more concerned with checking in on you was testament to how angry you’d made him. The thing with Bucky was clearly a game, Steve knew you were just making some cheap shots to get his attention. Taking you outside and getting you to suck him off was just him indulging you.

This was not that. You were being punished and his greatest source of irritation seemed to be that you were completely unapologetic. Also, there was the pride aspect, that you had done this in front of the team. If he couldn’t keep you in check, what kind of a leader was he?

But he most certainly couldn’t control you, not unless you wanted to let him. Mostly, he seemed to like that, seemed to like the challenge, the power struggles, the attitude. However, tonight, when you were dancing with Wanda, he seemed a bit…opposed. Wanda herself had been mad at Steve because of a little disagreement they had during their last mission. She was playing to win and if your sore aching ass was any indication, she had.

You always danced with Wanda, you danced with all your friends. But see, Wanda could read minds and that didn’t always produce the best scenarios. She knew you were desperate for an upper hand and she was just crazy enough to help you get it. It started fun like it always did when the girls were free of the boys, but then her hands were on your hips. Yet, you were fine, you knew Steve wouldn’t like it, but oh well.

Then, she spun you around, your back to her chest, and you were facing Steve. And well, she let her hands wander. You had been drinking a little, it was thrilling watching Steve watch you, knowing that he was going to make tonight hell for you.

He was beautiful, sat there, contemplating, strategizing, waiting with the restraint of a god. This was one of those moments when he just couldn’t turn off Captain America, when one was blending into the other. You never minded that. You loved Steve first, of course, but Captain America was just right after that.

You were excited when he calmly got onto the floor almost an hour later and told you it was time to go. You had to bite your tongue to stop the giggles and the words you desperately wanted to say as he took your hand and led you outside. Your body was humming with energy as he drove you back to the compound, hand firmly on your thigh.

He told you he could smell you, your pussy, how terribly you wanted him. He carried you to his room, knowing that your legs were weak and that if given the option, you’d beg him to fuck you in the hall. It was the start of your submission, you both loved it when he handled you like it was nothing.

By the time he yanked your panties down, you were already crying and shaking, your entire body throbbing for a release. Some of your tears had rolled down your cheeks and onto his thigh, and he could feel your knees buckling despite you trying to stand for him. He always ordered you to stay on your feet no matter how useless it was, no matter that even in heels, draped over his huge body, your feet barely touched the ground.

He stopped spanking you only to grab one of your hands from his forearm, dragging it down. “Touch your clit.”

It was nothing short of awkward positioning. You had to reach under his thigh and back up to where your cunt was. You had to angle your ass up just a little to have access, and he took that to mean that you wanted him to smack you harder.

He leaned down, kissing your head. “You’re okay?” He let your neck go just a little, a sign he wanted you to use words.

You nodded, clearing your throat. “Yes, daddy.”

“Don’t stop touching your clit until I tell you. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“And you better not come.”

“Okay.”

“If you do either of these things, I will tie you up and spank you for the rest of the night. I won’t fuck you, I won’t make you come.”

You nodded again. “Okay.”

You were slow about it, worried that you might work yourself up too quickly. He only just started with this, he wasn’t going to let it go for at least 30 minutes. He smacked you the entire time. It was heavy and noisy, and never failed to make your hips jolt so much that your clit was constantly moving out of reach before you panicked and set yourself back in the correct place.

“Rub your clit faster, doll.”

“Daddy—”

He reached down to take your hand, pressed firmly on your clit, and spoke over the moan that fell from your open mouth. “Do it like that, don’t make me tell you again.”

Even when he moved his hand, you continued. Your moans were strangled but loud enough for him. “Daddy, I’ll come like this.”

“Don’t,” was all he said and followed with another strike across your ass.

“Daddy, please, I’m going to come.” Your thighs were already shaking, that pressure in your lower body was building, threatening to bloom into a numbing orgasm. “Daddy, I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.” Another smack. “Aren’t you my good girl?” And another. “Don’t you wanna make daddy proud?” Another.

“Yes, daddy, but it feels too good,” you blurted out.

“My decision has been made.” He hit you twice more before you started to panic.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whined. “I’m really sorry, please let me stop!”

He settled one hand over your ass cheek and removed his hand from your neck to take your hand away from your pussy. “Baby, make it a good apology or we will start all over.”

You pulled your joined hands up and started kissing his knuckles. “I’m sorry, daddy, I promise I am.”

“For what?” he asked slowly. “Say all of it.”

“For flirting with Bucky.”

He smacked you again and you hissed. “How did you flirt with Bucky?”

“I let him touch me.”

Once more. “And why is that wrong?”

You waited until your skin stopped stinging before you spoke. “Because only you should be touching me.”

He hummed and his hand came down again. “Go on.”

“And for dancing with Wanda.”

“You wanted to make daddy mad, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Because you wanted to be spanked,” he accused.

You nodded. “Yes.”

“How’s that working out for you, doll?”

“It was fun for a while,” you admitted.

He snorted. “You’re a god damn brat.”

You kissed his hand again. “Your brat?”

He rolled his eyes, but you could see he was trying to fight a smile. “Yeah, mine. No one else should touch you, no one else should be dancing with you.” He finally pulled you up, quickly setting you so that you straddled him. He touched your face with both hands, looking over you carefully.

Your hands went to his pants and you began moving them out of the way.

He lifted an eyebrow at you. “I know you’re not doing that without permission.”

Biting your lip, you shrugged and pressed your palm against his cock through the pants.

He spanked you again and you crashed into him. Your knees slipped from the mattress and you frantically caught onto his shoulders. He gave you no time to recover, instead, rolled over so you were under him. “You know what I want to hear, doll.”

You did know. As much as you wanted him to praise you, he wanted you to tell him you loved him. But, again, you truly were a brat and sometimes decided to withhold such an admission. “I love you, daddy.”

“I love you, too.”

You brought a hand up to his face. “Are you gonna fuck me, daddy?”

“I’m gonna ruin you, baby doll,” he corrected. “First, I’m gonna eat your pussy and let you come. Then, I’m gonna fuck your pussy until I’m not hard anymore. Then I’m gonna fuck your mouth until I’m ready to fuck your ass.”

You would place money on the absurd idea that he’d somehow gotten a degree in teasing. Pathetically, you clutched at his shirt. “Please?”

He smirked. “Anything you want, baby girl.”

You yanked the hem up his back and he assisted you in taking it off. You kissed him hungrily, open-mouthed, moaning, yanking on his lip with both of yours.

He wasted no time, spared no warning, offered no preparation time. Abruptly, two of his thick fingers were inside your pussy and you were crying out, throwing your head back, body arching up closer to his. He started kissing your face, down the faint tear tracks that resulted from the prior spanking.

Again, he ordered against your skin, “say it again.”

“I love you,” you blurted out, hips rolling up to get him in further. “Daddy, I love you so fucking much.”

As his fingers curled, he kissed down your face, your neck, all the way down to one of your breasts. “Touch the other,” he directed, and didn’t close his mouth around your nipple until your hand had cupped your neglected breast.

He sucked hard, pressed his fingers hard, held you down with his hips hard. Everything about him was hard and rough and determined. He took you there fast, to that place where your body was shaking, these whiny, small noises couldn’t stop pouring out of you if your life depended on it, your hips jerking, your pussy clenching, stars behind your god damn eyes.

“I’m close, daddy. Can I come?”

He bit into your skin instead of answering, perfect teeth surrounding your nipple, a fucking threat. Did he actually think you didn’t want him to dig his teeth into you?

Your second hand came up to the back of his head where you fisted his hair and pressed him down more. “Harder, daddy, harder.”

He let his teeth pinch you just a tad more, concern clear in his actions.

“Harder,” you repeated.

Again, he gave you what you asked for, and pressed a third finger inside you. It was a delicious, disorienting, blissful stretch that you had to spread your legs to try to take.

“Harder,” you ordered, tone sharp, maybe a little condescending.

His fingers began pounding into you, wet noises echoing from your pussy. Finally, you were sure his teeth had pierced your skin.

You screamed so loud you were sure the entire floor heard you—distantly, you spared thought to who was going to give you a rough time at breakfast. Your orgasm followed almost instantly, and Steve fucked his fingers into you until you were mewling and brushing your fingers through his hair. You couldn’t say much at the moment but that little gesture never failed to stroke that unspoken part of Steve—which you had always known about—that also liked praise.

He turned up to you and you saw him lick his lips, maybe you’d seen a flash of red, maybe you’d just imagined it. Your breast stung, you thought you might have felt something drip down your skin… He pulled you up with him, hand on your arm, his other hand touching your lips, giving you a little taste of what your pussy had left behind on his fingers.

Before you could say a word, Steve was getting you on your knees and pushing you toward the headboard. You were confused by it but since you were still reeling from your last orgasm, you decided to trust him. He kept you facing away from him and you didn’t understand why until your wrists were being tied to the headboard. He took your hips and yanked you back and it was then you thought maybe you knew what he was doing. Your ankles were next, which was a long process given that you were so far away from the next spot on the bed that could hold a rope.

You were uncomfortably angled, body pulled tight. It was his favorite way to eat you out, you were completely exposed to him, unable to pull yourself away if he was overstimulating you. How he got back under you is another part of this that you were unclear on, anticipation now clouding your ability to logical thoughts.

His hands slid up your thighs, over your ass, clasped around your waist and then he pulled you down almost violently, clearly unconcerned about the way that pulled at both your arms and legs. You didn’t mind much either.

Once more, he didn’t bother with any of that elaborate shit. You weren’t built up, you weren’t led to an orgasm. He ate your pussy like it was the only thing he knew how to do. He alternated between running his tongue through you—prodding your entrance just slightly, then over your clit, back down and the same, over and over—to sucking your clit between his lips, moaning, sighing, making all of these appreciative noises that only added to all the sensations.

His fingers dug into your skin, your ribs painfully, your limbs were aching, but you knew it didn’t matter. Even if you told him all of this, even if you could make yourself care—as if you could focus on anything but his mouth—he wasn’t going to stop until he was satisfied.

Your first finish was slow, a somewhat drawn-out process that he worked to keep you on the edge of for just a few moments. He wasn’t teasing, necessarily, but he needed to remind you, in this state of hazy pleasure, that your body was wholly his. You squeezed your eyes shut, yanked on the ropes because that was the only thing you could do, and once again, reminded him that you loved him.

The second orgasm felt nearly immediately after—though, time distantly existed to someone as satisfied as you. You were trying to relax, worried you would spend yourself before you got fucked. He didn’t stop, he didn’t slow, if anything, he was faster, more skilled. He sucked at your skin roughly, a demand because he was getting impatient.

You were a whimpering, crying mess, begging him in half sentences because you were unable to articulate fully what you wanted. Your pussy spasmed, clenching in desperate need to be filled as he focused solely on your clit. You screamed things that you knew he would be smug about for days to come, how good you felt, how badly you needed only him, how much you wanted to be on his cock because he had the best cock in the world.

Prior to you, Steve thought he didn’t need to hear such biased things from a lover. But since he couldn’t get drunk, this was basically the only drug he could indulge in and get something out of.

This was around the time you started to worry, because again, you were offered no recovery time. He flicked his tongue over your clit regardless of your pleas for a break, regardless of how desperately you pulled on the ropes, regardless of the tears rolling down your cheeks. It was too much, you couldn’t come again.

He brought his hand up and spread your cunt, tongue continuing back and forth over that sensitive spot. You sobbed, utterly broken, overwhelmed, consumed, and insisted that you couldn’t give him another one. He stopped licking you only to say, “you can, and you will,” before diving right back in.

He must have known that this was it, this was when you needed your reprieve. You finished and he made sure not a drop of you went to waste, but then he was kissing around your thighs, you could feel that his cheeks and jaw were wet and there was something deep inside you that loved that his face was covered in you—maybe you could go a couple more rounds.

He tore the ropes off, uncaring of what happened to the bed or anything else—though, the way the post creaked made you worry. He just wanted to get you loose quickly and as soon as you were free, he was laying you down and kissing you wherever he could reach, mainly your chest and one of your arms.

When his lips were on yours, you remembered how badly you had wanted him inside you. It didn’t matter that you could barely move, you insisted on pushing his jeans down. “Daddy, please?”

He helped you because he doubted your ability to do so on your own, but he made the mental note to let you undress him before he ate you out next time. He loved when you undressed him, how your fingers would glide down his skin so softly, like he was something delicate or breakable. Sometimes, it made him forget who and what he was.

Though you were soaking wet, somewhat numb from all that overstimulation, he was hard enough that it hurt. His cock pressed into you carefully, inch by inch, his eyes on your face the whole time. He loved the flush on your cheeks, that hazy gleam in your eye, your swollen, parted lips—you looked so wrecked.

You weakly hooked a leg around his ass, hands following to grasp at his shoulders. “Daddy, I feel like I’ve needed you inside me for a fucking year.” And now he was there, and it made no sense how complete you felt, how sated, how at-home.

He kissed your lips first, a clear apology, then he kissed all around your face until you couldn’t stop smiling. “I’ll make it up to you,” he assured. “I’m gonna pound your beautiful little pussy until I know you can’t take it anymore.”

Sometimes, fucking so wildly and creatively was at the cost of simple intimacy. As he picked up this steady pace, this nice roll of his hips that was deep enough to make you cry out and forceful enough that his skin slapped noisily against yours, your eyes sought his out. He set his hand to your cheek, a nonverbal order to keep looking at him. His eyes always seemed like an ocean to you, so great, so dangerous, so mysterious. You realized he hadn’t spoken about his last mission, you were beginning to wonder if there was a bigger reason for all these games. Maybe this was his way of sneakily getting you here without having to talk about it—he never liked you to worry.

You finished and it felt like he was finally home, despite him having been there for several days. You shuddering beneath him, tightening around him to the point of being painful just grounded him like nothing else could, reminded him that he was human.

His hips stilled immediately and before you could say a word, his lips were on yours. He was smart, anyone who ever claimed Steve wasn’t alarmingly intelligent was dead wrong. He was a strategist above all else, that also applied in bed. He wanted you to come down fast before he started up again, he wanted you loose and weak because you were less likely to make him come that way. And he had such grand plans for the rest of the night, it was written all over his face, meaning he was edging himself.

There were few things better than when Steve did this. He always knew how to start slow for himself, not gentle, not boring, just simply not enough. With time, he fucked you harder, he grabbed you like you were little more than a toy given to him simply for his pleasure, the noises he made were animalistic, the things he would say… You just had to last that long, and it was always a mystery if you would, if he would take it easy on you or not.

Usually, he didn’t care to be so considerate.

He settled his weight on one of his forearms as he pulled away from the kiss. His opposite hand slid down your body and to your sensitive cunt.

“Daddy,” you whimpered. Nope, he most certainly was not going easy on you tonight.

He didn’t start fucking you again. Instead, he rubbed firm, quick circles over your clit until you were shaking and screaming and crying and squeezing his shoulders in your hands.

While you were coming, he brought his hand over your mouth and nose. You did your best to look up at him, but he kept his fingers on your clit and you could barely think straight, let alone see straight.

“Hear that?” That was when he started thrusting. “Hear how wet your pussy is? It’s been that wet all night, you’ve been so desperate for my cock all night. When you were flirting with Bucky, when you were dancing with Wanda. And they both knew it. Bucky can smell you, too, and I’m sure Wanda was reading your thoughts.”

Both of those suggestions were mortifying. It wasn’t normal how weak and pathetic you got over Steve’s cock. Thinking that the team knew that, that Wanda was listening to some of your thoughts, you wouldn’t be able to look them in the eye for at least the next week.

He kept his hand over you, preventing you from breathing because he knew it would make your next orgasm better. He felt a sinful amount of pride when your eyes began crossing, when your hips started to jerk, when you started digging your nails into his skin. You were so fucked out you didn’t care what you looked like or sounded like, and that was what turned him on like nothing else after long nights like these.

You started shoving his arm as you were coming down, realizing once more the importance of oxygen. He waited, kept his hold over you, eyes locked on yours, until your eyes filled with more tears and your skin turned just a little red. When he let you go, your chest heaved as you greedily took in air. And he never once stopped driving his cock in and out of you, reveling in the sounds.

“Daddy—”

He scoffed, rolling over effortlessly so you were on top. “Come on, sweetheart, I know you’re not trying to tap out right now.” His hand spread over your back, holding you down flat. His voice was surprisingly steady considering his erratic thrusts. “Not only would I not let you, but you know you’re tougher than that.”

Your cheek was pressed to his chest, the loudest sound you could hear was his pounding heart. You had your hands somewhere on his body, all you could feel was skin and muscle and heat. His hands slid down to your ass where he held you in place and fucked you harder than he usually liked to. Screams tore from your throat along with these small mewls when you were almost choking on air because you could barely remember how to breathe.

“You love me, baby doll?”

“Yes,” you rasped. “Yes, daddy, I love you.”

“You gonna be a good girl and let daddy use you all night?”

“Yes.” That was a big promise you weren’t sure you were going to be able to keep but your desire to make him proud sometimes beat out logic.

“Sit up,” he directed but moved you himself. He placed your hands on his chest but kept a good hold of your shoulders. “You know what I want.”

And for some reason, your hips, despite all the screaming your muscles were doing, started to roll.

He let out a pleased sigh, eyes roaming over your body. His hands weren’t tight, they were just there if he needed to catch you, but this was all you. This was his baby, riding his cock because you were such a good girl.

This had to be adrenaline, there was no other explanation for why you were able to move on your own. From this position, you could feel how wet and sticky you’d gotten his thighs—how many times had he made you come? You weren’t sure anymore.

As you drew yourself closer to an orgasm, now wildly bouncing on his cock, screaming, gasping, sobbing, you pressed your nails down into his pecs as sharply as you could.

He watched your breasts move with you, smugly admiring the bruised and broken skin around your nipple. His heart swelled when he felt you trying to mark him up, too. You made him wish that he didn’t heal so fast sometimes, if only so he could be covered in you as much as you were covered in him.

He caught your hip in one hand when you were getting him too close. He dragged you down until you were flat on his lap, struggling to sit on the entire length of his cock. His other hand went to your clit again and you threw your head back and moaned shamelessly. He flicked his thumb over you until you were shaking, your knees digging into his sides, your chest heaving, your arms buckling.

He let you come down this time but not because he was feeling nice. He’d been so lost in you that he had let himself get just a little too far. But that didn’t stop you from being a fucking tease, he suspected nothing in this world could. You were sitting there, pussy occasionally clenching around his cock, your hands kneading your breasts and pinching your nipples.

His hand tightened on you when your shaky fingers touched the bite he’d left behind. You hissed a little, glancing down to assess the damage. He was sick for biting you like that, but you were sick for looking so god damn happy about it.

Your eyes flit up to him, catching him looking just a little weak. His mouth snapped shut when he realized you were watching him. “Wanna give me another one, daddy?”

Scoffing, he sat up, situating himself onto his legs so you could sit on his thighs. His arms slid around your back and he pulled you up until you were a head or so taller than him. With your eyes locked, he sucked your nipple between his lips.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whispered.

He hummed lightly, teeth just barely pressing down.

“Shit,” you muttered, almost more to yourself. You always liked feeling it, but he’d never taken the time to let you watch him do it.

He started sucking, taking more of your breast in his mouth until he’d decided where he wanted to let his teeth cut into your skin. He did it slow, sinking them in carefully and keeping his gaze on you the whole time. You were shaking again and he could feel your cunt leaking onto his lap. He wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten you this wet before.

Your eyes filled with new tears when he finally broke your skin. You bit your lip to keep from making a noise too big, but it was an agonized cry that made him pause for just a moment. But then you squeezed your pussy around him and his hand came down on your ass loudly, you weren’t sure what scared you more the sudden sound or the force behind it.

He pulled his mouth off and admired his work for a second before turning up to you. “You want to be a fucking brat after I’m making you act like this?”

You scoffed shakily. “And how are you making me act, daddy?”

Instead of answering that, he asserted, “I’ve never seen someone so desperate to have every hole fucked this hard. I’m sure most people haven’t.”

You arched an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe I should fuck you in front of the team, hmm?”

That idea probably didn’t put you off as much as he thought it would. Although, calling him daddy, begging for his cock and his cum, crying because he won’t let you finish—thinking of other people watching you submit like that was a little embarrassing.

“How about just Wanda and Vision?” you suggested.

He snorted. “Really?”

“He can watch you eat my pussy, you can show him how to do it.”

He hummed, pretending that he didn’t care.

But he should have stopped you because you were about to cross the line with him. After all, it was one of your favorite hobbies. “But before we get Wanda’s hopes up, maybe he could practice on me a few times.”

And when he gripped your hip tighter, you knew you’d hit the bullseye. He took his opposite hand and grabbed your jaw. “I’m only going to say this once, doll.”

You hummed, trying to hide how pleased with yourself you were.

“If you ever joke about someone else eating your pussy, I’ll fucking spank you until I see some blood.”

Though it was more than likely an empty threat—Steve didn’t have it in him to do that to you, even when you promised you would tell him if it was too much—his deep voice, his unrelenting grip on your jaw, his dark eyes all made you wetter.

“Understood?”

You tried not to smile but you failed, and continued to fail as you tried to hide it by nodding.

He scoffed sharply. “You’re so fucking spoiled.”

He grabbed a handful of hair at the back of your head, smirking when you startled. Before you could say a word, he was yanking you down until his cock had slipped out and you rolled off his lap. He didn’t much care where you landed, he just shoved your face into the bed.

Then he was on top of you, settling his body over yours but being careful not to set any weight on you. He was not gentle at all when he entered you again because this was the kind of fucking that wouldn’t stop until you were sweating, dripping with cum, crying, and blurting out nonsense that always seemed to placate him.

He kept your face pressed into the mattress as he railed into you. You screamed loudly because you could, because he wasn’t letting you do anything else, because it was the only way you could express to him how badly you wanted to finish, how badly you wanted him to finish. As you were coming, you only got louder, your throat was starting to ache, your heart was pounding, your head spinning—you couldn’t fucking breathe, not that you minded, and you were wasting the little oxygen you did have to let this man know he was fucking you just right.

He waited until your body was thrashing with aftershocks, until your voice had died down somewhat, and then lifted your head. Instead of letting you catch your breath, he leaned over and kissed you. It was a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss with a lot of tongue, both of you moaning as his hips continued to move.

“Daddy, are you gonna come?”

“You want me to?”

You nodded as well as you could with his hold on your hair. “Please, daddy.”

He hummed before shoving your face back down. He sat back then, free hand coming to the small of your back to keep you right there. With this new position, he had a lot more leverage and he took full advantage of that. You didn’t scream this time, you couldn’t. A sound had caught in your throat the second he slammed back into you harder than you could ever remember him doing so. It fucking hurt and you were aching, but you loved that harsh sting you felt in your pussy. You loved that he was the one who did it to you.

He collapsed back over you as he finished. His mouth took your shoulder, biting down to muffle the groans pouring from him as his body moved at a steady pace. You could feel his cum filling you, soon it would be dripping out, soon he would be moving again until he’d just about fucked it all out of you, and he’d want to do it again and again, until he wasn’t hard anymore.

Currently though, he was. He was buried deep inside you and it hurt to have him there while you were still tight from your last finish and the impending next one. It was a feeling you’d gotten used to, a feeling you’d grown to crave sometimes. That pain that was so uniquely Steve Rogers because no one else had that stamina or strength.

He sat up again, releasing his hold on your head so you could finally breathe. He let you collect yourself as he began positioning you over him. He spread your legs as wide as they could go, draping your thighs over his.

Was he ever going to give you a break?

His hands both curled around your waist, fingers pressing firmly down on that skin. He dragged you down further onto his cock and you threw your head back. He kept fucking you like this, just pushing and pulling your body and holding you so tight. He was merciless, forcing you to take as much of his cock as you could before you screamed. He loved hearing you scream. It fueled him on, so it was no surprise when he pinned you down to the mattress, hands painfully grasping at your skin, and began fucking you so roughly that the bed was rattling. You were shrieking and crying and pleading, and your hips were angling up so you could take him in deeper. All you wanted was your next orgasm.

When you got it, you felt much like a shattered vase. You could do nothing but lay there in pieces, panting, disoriented, struggling to keep a grip on reality. Through it all, he pounding into you, roughly handling your body to best get himself off.

You knew he was coming when he brought his forearms down on either side of you. It was a few more harsh snaps of his hips and then he was unmoving, and you were full of him. He wasn’t completely rested on you, but it was the only thing in that moment that could ground you.

You blindly, mindlessly reached for him. You curled your arm back, grabbing his hair to pull him closer. You didn’t want to kiss him, you just wanted him as close as he could possibly get. Regardless, he did kiss you until he felt like you had come down enough for him.

He slipped his cock out and you felt his cum following, dripping from your pussy. He climbed off the bed, standing at the very edge where he gestured you over. “Come here, baby doll.”

You weren’t sure how you made yourself crawl over to him. It was purely a miracle that your muscles worked. You were on your hands and knees when you took him into your mouth. His hand settled in your hair and he let his head fall back.

He wasn’t totally soft, but as soft as he was going to get while his thoughts about all the ways he wanted to fuck you persisted. He grabbed your hair and pulled you off, smiling a little when he saw you pouting. There were few things he liked seeing more than when you would get bratty just to suck him off. “Lay down on your back.”

You quickly obliged. He had never placed you in this position before and you loved when Steve took control of positions—it was never disappointing. He took your waist and pulled you to the edge of the bed until your head was dangling over. Immediately, you opened your mouth for him and he thrust back in.

You gagged noisily, your throat moving around him as you struggled to take him. He let you adjust on your own while his hands wandered your body. First, he grabbed your breasts, pinched your nipples until your back was arching and you were whimpering for more. He let them slide down until he could grab your thighs. He spread your legs as wide as they could go and watched your cunt pulsing and clenching, messy, sticky. And dipping with his cum.

“Keep your legs open for me,” was all he said before he leaned over and his tongue was sliding through your folds. You whined, muffled by his cock, utterly frustrated by how badly you wanted him to suck your clit. He pressed his hands down flat on your thighs to keep you pinned right where he wanted and began fucking your mouth.

The room was filled with sounds of you choking and moaning and him eating your soaking pussy and those breaths that you drew from him when you swallowed him just right. During your finish, he stopped his hips, denying himself the same relief. This happened several times and you wouldn’t have minded if he did it for the rest of the night. You didn’t understand how you could want more after all he had given you, but you did. More of his mouth, his hands, his cock.

When he pulled himself from your mouth, he was hard again. You didn’t let him tell you what to do next. You just reached for him, one hand wrapping around his cock and the other massaging his sac. You didn’t stop even though he was fucking you with his fingers, cruel and punishing, until he was spilling out on your skin.

He watched as you let your hands spread his cum all over your breasts and down your body to your pussy where more of him remained. You covered as much of yourself as you could in it and all he could think was that he wanted to do the same to the rest of your body, particularly your ass.

You knew immediately what was coming next. You got up, haphazardly crawled around the mattress until you could lie down and pressed your ass against him eagerly. He got his cock wet with your dripping center, just lightly dipping in and chuckling at the weak sounds you made, and then slowly, he pressed into your asshole.

You gripped at the sheets as he fed you more and more of his cock. Once more, when his hips were flush against you, he became insatiable. He used you to get every last ounce of frustration out and you felt powerful and wanted. He was rough and relentless, he didn’t care how many times you orgasmed, he didn’t care that you were overstimulated and overwhelmed.

You were sweating and shaking, impossibly wet, but he kept going because your hips were driving back to meet his thrusts. You could whine and beg as much as you wanted but Steve knew your body and he was the one that decided when you had had enough. You grabbed at his arms where he had them placed over your head on the mattress for balance, desperate to touch him, to bring him closer to you.

He never stopped fucking you while he situated himself on his side and pulled you along with him. He held you against his chest, arms wound tightly around you as his fingers either pinched your nipples, wrapped around your throat, or rubbed your clit. You were drowning in dozens of sensations that you couldn’t distinguish if your life depended on it.

When Steve finished again, he held onto you almost desperately. He whispered in your ear, the sweetest things, a major contrast compared to the entire night. “Thank you, baby doll, I’ve needed that since I got home.” He took your jaw in his hand and turned you to face him. “Do you love daddy?”

You nodded and made this pathetic noise because you stupidly thought you were capable of forming words. He smiled a little and suddenly, you were just lost in him. His eyes. His lips. His entire fucking unfairly beautiful face.

“Did daddy make you feel good tonight?”

You nodded again. You didn’t know much but you did know that you were high off these things that Steve did to you.

He gave you a single, chaste kiss. “You deserved it, baby girl.”

You began turning your body toward him and he took the hint. He pulled out, grabbing the blankets that were strewn all around the bed. You curled up against him, so tiny and so weak, and he was brimming with pride because he did that to you and you let him and you, this amazing fucking person, loved him. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve it, but he didn’t ponder too long as he wrapped you up in the blankets and cradled you against him.

tags:

@donutloverxo @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @onetwo3000

[starrywhump]

Hi can you post more Nico angst Maybe some stripping, gagging, tying up, etc

Thanks for the ask!  Here is some Nico angst, it’s very much emotionally whumpy as well as the physical aspect.  Please excuse typos I’m a terrible proofreader. Hope y’all enjoy!

First | Previous | Next

Nico shivered, he could still feel Rhea’s hands on him.  She had left hours ago, after thoroughly enjoying the final break of Nico’s defiance. But he could still feel her hands invading his space.  He scratched at his neck, trying to get rid of the feeling of her touch.  It didn’t help.

Nico was the cleanest he had been since he was captured, but he felt dirtier than ever.  A disgusting layer of humiliation laid on his skin.  He had to do it, he knew that.  He wasn’t just going to let Rhea shoot Ash, but his just blatant obedience made him sick. 

Even worse than that, he cried, he let Rhea get to him.  He felt like vomiting at the thought.  He tried to tell himself that just because he submitted to Rhea’s will this one time, it didn’t mean he gave up, but it sure felt like the beginning of the end.  

More and more the little voice in his head told him how much easier it would be to just stop fighting. 

Nico dug his fingers into his neck, focusing his mind on the dull stinging left in the wake of his fingernails. It helped a little. 

“N-Nico?” Ash’s voice was weak, it barely traveled across the cell to where Nico was sitting.

Nico got up quickly, moving to sit next to Ash in the middle of the floor, “Right here,” he said softly. 

Ash smiled weakly, dried blood around his lips cracked a bit as his skin moved. 

Right after Rhea had left earlier, Nico had, with some difficulty, untied Ash’s hands.  But even now he wasn’t restrained Ash could barely move.  Nico didn’t know the full extent of his injuries, but he looked pretty horrible.  

“you... ‘k?” it seemed to take a lot of effort for Ash to get the words out. 

Nico scoffed, “I don’t think I’m the person to be worrying about right now.” 

Ash laughed, or tried to, it came out more as weak cough.  He winced at the movement.

“Are you... what’s wrong?”  Nico’s voice was filled with concern.

Ash shook his head, unable to speak through his spluttering coughs.  Red flecks became clear on his lips.

“You need to be upright come on,” Nico spoke firmly, not letting his worries show in his voice. 

Ash didn’t seem to hear him, his eyes were filled with panic as he tried to get a moment to breathe. 

Nico carefully put a hand under Ash’s head to support him as he lifted him to a sitting position.

Ash’s eyes squeezed closed as Nico pulled him up.

He collapsed forward onto Nico's shoulder, blood trickling out of his mouth onto Nico’s shirt. 

Nico knew he should try to say something to comfort his friend. He opened his mouth but couldn't think of the right words.

Ash’s breath was ragged, desperately trying to get air into his lungs.

"Shushh, just... it's ok. Just- just try to breathe, slowly,” Nico’s tone came out more awkward than comforting. 

"t-trying.." Ash stuttered out.

"It's gonna b-"

Nico was interrupted as the door to their cell swung open.

"Awww, what a pair of darlings," Rhea cooed.

Nico bit his cheek, stopping himself from instantly snapping at her. For Ash's sake he couldn't, if he did something to make her mad it would only hurt him.  He couldn’t let her get to him.

"He needs a doctor." 

"Well he's still alive so he can't need one that bad," Rhea stepped into the room, letting the door close behind her.

"He's coughing up blood, that's not good. He needs a doctor." Nico grit his teeth, trying to keep himself from yelling.

Rhea pondered for a minute before shrugging, "Well I have three of you, if it's really that bad, he isn't integral to my little experiments."

"You're fucking sick," Nico growled.

A groan from Ash cut off their conversation, more blood spilled from his mouth.  Nico felt Ash’s body go slack in his grip, passing back out. 

Rhea moved on, ignoring him, “Today is a particularly special day. I have a nice little surprise for you all."

Nico's heart dropped, he knew that Rhea's words could mean nothing good.

Rhea reached to her belt for her radio, "bring it in please."

No no whatever it is keep it the fuck away. 

“You should be excited,” Rhea smiled.

Nico wrapped his arms protectively around Ash, “I’m not.”

Rhea gave him an exaggerated pout.  She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by a knock at the cell door. 

The door creaked open and one of Rhea’s men, carrying some kind of metal tool and what looked like a car battery.  Rhea watched with excitement as he set his armful down, she gave the guard a nod towards Nico, “put him back up on the wall please.”

Nico’s chest clenched. The last thing he wanted was to be chained up away from Ash, unable to stop Rhea from doing whatever she wanted to his friend.

The guard nodded and made his way towards Nico, grabbing him roughly by the back of the shirt.

“Wait!  Wait, let me let him down, so he doesn’t fall.” Nico felt a pang of humiliation rush through his body, his voice sounded dangerously close to a beg. 

The guard paused, looking up to Rhea.  She nodded silently with an amused smirk. 

Nico put his hand back behind Ash’s head as he lowered him back to the ground. 

As soon as Ash’s back was against the floor the guard pulled at Nico’s collar.

Nico elbowed back at the guard, “Just wait a second!” he growled.

Nico managed to push Ash to his side, albeit a bit rougher than he would have wished for, at least he wasn’t going to choke on his own blood. 

With a yank from the man behind him, Nico was forced to his feet.  He was slammed back into the wall, the air knocked from his lungs.

Nico coughed violently as the guard grabbed and fastened his wrists into the cuffs above him.  Nico was still gasping to regain his breathe when the guard stepped away.

Rhea dismissed the man with a silent wave, leaving Nico and Ash alone with just her. 

She turned to fiddle with what the guard had brought in.  From this new vantage point, Nico could clearly see Rhea’s newest implement of grief. But he still couldn’t exactly tell what it was. One piece of it was a large battery, a cord ran from the battery to a metal rod, about as long as his forearm, there was a flat disc of metal at the end of the rod. 

Rhea held the rod by its black handle, she turned slightly to adjust something on the other side of the battery. 

As she twisted Nico could see the bottom of the disc, in risen metal letters he could make out the words “Property of Rhea” with a small heart underneath. 

His eyes widened in horror as he realized what it was, “No! No... you can’t be serious!” 

Rhea flipped a switch on the battery, and a faint buzzing filled the room, “What a smart boy you are, figuring it out all by himself.  Though I am disappointed I didn’t get to tell you all about it myself.” 

“You-” Nico stopped the insults from rolling off his tongue, if he wanted any chance of this not happening he couldn’t make her angry.

“If- If- the cops ever saw it they’ll know your name, you can’t-”

“Do you really think I have only one?  And even if this was my real name, without a last name it's practically useless.”

no no no no no no. 

Nico’s mind was racing, there was no way this was happening, this couldn’t be happening. 

Rhea placed the brand on the floor, walking over to Nico,  “I know, it’s a lot, it’s scary, but I know you can do it,” she ran a hand through Nico’s hair. 

Nico jerked his head to the side, there was nowhere far enough to escape her touch. 

Rhea smiled at him, a warm smile that may have even been comforting in different circumstances, “It needs a few minutes to warm up, and after that, it will be over before you know it.” 

“You- you can’t fucking brand me,” Nico tried to stop from stuttering. 

“Language Nico, you had been doing so well.”

Rhea released his hair, she took a few steps back to look at both boys, “So who wants to go first.”

shit shit SHIT.

Nico hadn’t even thought of Ash.  He mentally kicked himself for being so selfish, worrying about himself when Ash was over there passed out on the floor. 

“You can’t do that to him now.”

“I can do whatever I want, both of you are getting it today.”

“Look at him!  You almost killed him he can’t handle anything else!  He’s already coughing up blood you can’t fuc-” Nico stopped himself, “you can’t burn him on top of all that.” 

“Hmmm,” Rhea made a mockery of thinking it over, “last I checked you don’t get to say what I can’t do.”

Nico felt hopeless, there was nothing he could do, nothing except, “What do you want me to do?”

Rhea gave him a questioning look.

“There’s always something you want from me.  Something I haven’t done yet that you want me to do.  I’m the one you can’t break, can’t get to do what you want.  Well, I will now, what will it take for you to leave him alone?”  Nico’s breathing quickened anticipating whatever horror he had just signed himself up for. 

“Well,”  Rhea’s face spread into a grin, “that is a delicious proposition.  So you’ll be branded?  And do whatever I want?”

“If you leave him alone.”

“He’s going to get it later on anyway.  Is all that pain, the humiliation, is it really worth it?”

Nico knew it was.  He wanted to help Ash.  This would take away the one real thing Rhea hadn’t been able to steal.  She could beat him and cut him however much she wanted but there was no way to force his obedience.  Now he was bartering it away for a temporary save. 

“He goes to a hospital too.”

Rhea gave an exasperated shake of her head, “I can’t do that, you-”

“Then medical care, at least- it can be here.  This is obviously some kind of criminal base or something and you must have a hospital or medical center.  Ash gets the care he needs, nicely, with pain meds and stuff not as another way for you to torment him.”

“You really think of everything don’t y-”

“And Hazel, she gets it as well.  Both of them, fixed up, and out of pain.”

Nico wracked his brain trying to think of anything else he could ask for.  The more panicked he got the harder it was for him to think. 

Rhea paused as if thinking it over, “I suppose... I might agree, but it would have to be very enticing to be worth it.”

“What do you want me to do?” Nico repeated.

“Submit, fully.  Do what I say, beg when I ask, no fighting, no cursing, no attitude. The second you slip up the deal’s off.”

Nico tilted his head up to try and stop tears slipping out of his eyes, his voice shook slightly, “I won’t slip up.”

“Well,” Rhea turned back to the brand, “good then, as long as you keep being good, they will receive medical attention, they won’t be hurt.  I expect your very best behavior and your active participation, can you do that?”

Nico nodded.

Rhea held the brand, turning back to Nico and raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Nico realized his mistake, “yes ma’am,” he corrected himself.

Rhea didn’t look satisfied. 

What did she want? 

Nico’s lungs felt tight, it dawned on him what she wanted, “Please, uh... please do it,” he could barely force out the words, “brand me.” 

“You can do better than that.”

Nico took in a stuttering breath, “please, please I want you to... it would uh- make me happy, please Rhea please brand me.” 

Nico let the words tumble out of his mouth reminding himself over and over he didn’t mean it. 

Rhea nodded, smiling she stepped toward Nico with the brand.  With one hand she traced her fingers along the hem of Nico’s shirt, gently lifting it up to expose his bare torso.  

“Hold this,” Rhea pushed the fabric into one of Nico’s cuffed hands.

“Yes ma’am,” Nico took it quickly, the tee-shirt now covering his view of Rhea.  He was breathing fast and heavy, having a hard time getting enough oxygen.  

Waiting for it to happen felt worse than-

That thought was quickly disproven as the red hot metal met his ribcage.  

He wasn’t sure if he screamed or not, he probably did.  

Everything just whited out for Nico, his vision, hearing, all just white, blinding pain.  

Worse than anything Nico had ever felt before.  

It felt like an eternity before the blind white screen faded back to Rhea’s face in front of him. 

Now he could tell he was screaming. 

His throat burned as he cried out, gasping for air. 

Rhea held Nico’s tee shirt up, Nico must have dropped it in his surprise, she was murmuring reassurances Nico couldn’t hear over his own sounds of pain. 

Finally, Rhea pulled the brand off of Nico, it pulled on his skin eliciting a yelp from her captive. 

Nico was breathing hard as he tried to regain his composure. 

It hurt. 

It hurt so incredibly bad. 

 All thoughts of strength or regaining his dignity were gone from Nico’s head. 

 Broken sobs came from the boy as he tried to get through it. 

“Shushhh, good job darling, good job,” Rhea’s hands were in his hair again but Nico barely felt it. 

His side felt like it was on fire, his tee-shirt brushing against it was unbearable. 

“Tell me what you feel,” Rhea’s voice dripped with a sick fascination.

Nico barely processed what she said, he looked up at her confused. 

“Tell me what you feel,” Rhea repeated more slowly.

Nico knew he had to, had to give his complete cooperation. 

“H-hu-hurts,” Nico struggled to talk between sobs.

“Mmmm I know, I know it hurts darling, but you did so good.”

Nico was limp in her hands as Rhea maneuvered his head to rest on her shoulder, “You did so good for me, don’t worry.” 

[vapid-slut]

Perfect Harmony; Ch.1

Warning[s]: Swearing, Michael being a dirty bitch

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Entering her senior year as a cheerio, the reader is excited to combine both her love of music and her newfound popularity. To Michael, however, this is the perfect opportunity to fuck with his innocent neighbor

A/N: Can we say, I hate this, because I really do. I have no idea what has compelled me to post this dumpster, just know that if you read this, no u didn’t <3 + I did not proofread this so if theres any typos I’m so sorry, I’m running on 4 hrs of sleep and 5 cups of coffee

Music was your life. Your parents often joked that you were singing before you uttered your first word. Unfortunately, there were no music clubs during your past two years of high school. It was only last year that you and the glee club won nationals, hence why you were able to keep funding. School administration was never really fond of the arts, but they would bend over backward to give the sports clubs whatever they needed.

Your biggest dream was to get a scholarship, preferably for music, since you excelled at it. All your life, you watched your father slave away to keep you happy. You just wanted to repay his kindness. Abruptly, your dream, which entailed you winning a grammy, was disrupted by the ringing of your alarm clock. Your arm stretched over to your nightstand, turning the device off, bringing the sound to a halt.

Slowly, you removed the sheets off your body, standing up for a brief stretch before walking to your bathroom. You went about your morning routine much quicker than you typically would. Mostly due to your excitement, this year would be the first that you spent closer to the top of the social food chain. Over the summer, your dad became fast friends with Coach Sylvester. She had come over a few times. And although their relationship was strictly platonic, they both had grown fond of each other. A week before school, she offered you a spot on the cheerios, one you couldn't turn down. Cheerleaders were at the very top of the pyramid. Girls wanted to be them while boys wanted to be with them.

Once you had finished doing the bare necessities your morning required, you hastily made your way to your closet, immediately reaching for one of the three cheerleading uniforms hanging on the rack. You stripped out of your pajamas before slipping into the skimpy skirt, unaware that you had an admirer. Michael had moved next door a few months into your freshman year, was a rather charming boy. He quickly became a hot commodity, no doubt due to how impeccably handsome he was. You were never too fond of him, but even you had to admit that he was a divine sight.

It never truly bothered you that the window into your room was straight across from the one piercing into his. But if you could see the look of satisfaction on his face as he watched you undress, you'd feel very unnerved. The boy had always felt attracted to you. He saw you as a challenge. You were one of the few students in your grade who was still a virgin. Not due to your looks, you frankly didn't have the time to go to parties or hook up with people. Your focus was on your education. And if getting into a great school meant sacrificing your social life, you were content with that.

Once you had finished getting your uniform on and slicking your hair into a neat updo, you gathered your things into your bag and hurried downstairs for breakfast. "Mornin' kiddo!" Your dad said, greeting you with a smile. You muttered a cheerful 'hey' in response, walking towards one of the cabinets full of cereal boxes. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. My car had to get fixed up last night so, I'll have to take yours today." You shrugged as a reply, not caring. "So am I taking the bus today?" Your father shook his head, reaching for a spoon at the same time. "No. That nice boy next door offered to give you a ride today. Isn't that sweet?"

Fuck- you thought to yourself, of course, the universe found some way to screw up your day. You took a long sigh before shifting your eyes to the clock on the wall. "Shit! I'm sorry, dad. I'd love to eat breakfast, but the Glee meeting starts in 20 minutes." Your dad shrugged, not too bothered. "It's fine, go have fun and tell Michael I said hello." You nodded to your old man, and with that, you were up and out the door.

As soon as you stepped foot outside, there he was. Hair perfectly curled, toothpick dangling from his soft lips. You sighed, walking towards the blonde, waiting for him to get out of the way. "Wow, you become a cheerleader, and now you think you're hot shit?" He spat, you gave him a death glare before pushing him lightly to get inside the car. He followed suit, taking his place in the driver's seat. "As much as I find you annoying, your ass does look great in that skirt." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the boy as he started driving. "Listen up, Pillsbury fuckboy. Though this might seem hard to understand, I don't like you. And I'd rather not spend my senior year arguing with someone as unbearable as you, so can you please leave me alone?!"

The blonde chuckled at your response. Your mouth said one thing while your thoughts said another. "Your wish is my command." He mumbled sarcastically before reaching to turn up the music on the radio to an obscene volume. The rest of the car ride was entirely uneventful, neither of you uttering a word to each other. Ultimately, you had reached the school parking lot. Not many cars were there since it was early, and only a few clubs were meeting today. Before Michael could do anything, you swiftly got out the car, making sure to slam it loudly. "Don't fucking slam the door!" He said, his voice reaching you even though you were still walking, in response you promptly flipped him off. "Fucking bitch." He uttered lowly as you slowly left his field of view.

-----

"Welcome back, New Directions!" Glee's coach, Mr.Shue, said as you embraced your friends. "As you know, this will be our last year together, and a few of our beloved friends have left for college already. Which means we'll be having auditions for some newcomers." As he spoke, he walked over to the whiteboard, grabbing his trusted magic marker. "But there's a twist." You and everyone else in the room watched as he wrote out the words American Idol. "This time, you'll be judging with me."

You would typically be seated next to Tina and Mercedes, but they were both absent for the meeting. Instead, you sat with Santana on your left and Quinn to your right. You had to admit that it felt nice. Usually, you wouldn't ponder on things so benign. But you had spent most of high school getting teased by Michael and the rest of his sought after friends. Not a day went by that slushies weren't thrown in your face, now you could finally walk the halls without fear of humiliation. 

Besides that, you were also really ecstatic to help Mr. Shue with auditions. Glee club was what had brought a group of entirely different people together. So you'd be more than glad to share that with a new ensemble of students before you all went your final ways.

-----

The rest of your day went by quicker than usual. There wasn't much to learn on the first day. Once the clock hit 3:30, You rushed to the auditorium as if your life depended on it. You had to admit that you missed the stage, singing, and dancing with your friends. You made your way the middle of the seating area, taking your place beside Artie.

A majority of the auditions were lackluster. Only a handful stood out. Like that girl Marley and that kid Jake. You were just about ready to leave and go home until something caught your attention. "Michael Langdon?" Your eyes lit up immediately as you heard the name. You watched as the blue-eyed boy made his way to the stage, smug look on his face.

There was no way in hell Michael fucking Langdon, the same boy who referred to glee as "homo explosion," would ever willingly audition. His rendition of "Suit and Tie" was incredible, which only pissed you off more. Not only was he insanely attractive, but he just had to be talented too, fucking men.

You watched as your fellow glee members watched in amusement. It was the girls who seemed most excited.  Eventually, it all became too much, and before the boy could finish entertaining your friends, you stormed off into the parking lot. Far too upset with the blonde to drive home with him, you sent your friend Mike a text asking if he could get you. He lived pretty close to the school, so you knew it would only take a few minutes.

-----

By the time Mike had pulled up to the building, the other glee kids were exiting. You quickly reached for the door of his car, rushing to get to the passenger seat. "You alright?" He asked, worried by how fidgety you were. You nodded. "Yea, I just wanna go home." Mike was always very comforting. The two of you became friends during your freshman year, mostly because of how many classes you shared. You both had a love for music and were smart, so it wasn't long before you two clicked.

Within a few minutes, you had arrived at your house, Mike flashing you a smile. "Thank you for coming to get me. It means a lot." The dark-haired boy shrugged. "It's no biggie, see you tomorrow, cheerio." You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Whatever, jock-face." And with that, you entered your home.

The house was currently empty. He was taking the night shift at the hospital so, he probably wouldn't come back till late at night. You walked up the stairs to your room, dropping your bag on the floor. After everything that had gone down today, you were exhausted. You quickly took off the scanty cheer uniform and slipped on your much softer penguin pajamas.

You practically threw yourself on the bed, hoping to get some rest, but were promptly distracted by a notification on your phone. The text, from an unknown number nonetheless, read 'look outside your window.' You quickly sat up, confused, and turned your head only for your eyes to be met by Michael Langdon, who just happened to be balls deep inside some random brunette. 

You gave the boy a disgusted look before pulling down your blinds. Never in your life had you been more repulsed. Your mind tried long and hard to block out any memory of what you just witnessed. After around forty-five minutes, you received another text message from non-other than Michael.

'It's a shame you missed my performance."

'Go fuck yourself, Langdon.'

'If you say so ;)'

The rest of the night, you wondered what you had done to be the new subject of Mr. Pillsbury Fuckboys torment. You had spent most of your high school years avoiding him at cost. Suddenly it seemed like you weren't getting rid of him anytime soon. You were just lucky you only had to endure this for a few more months, and then you'd be on your way.

Or so you thought.

[thatesqcrush]

The Games That Are Played

Warning: crack-fic coming your way. This is what happens when you get on a discord chat with some other Barba loving heathens (you know who you are) and get a little heavy handed with the wine. Fic also inspired by the gif below.

More warning: All the smut. Threesome fic with Amaro & Barba. Nothing up the booty, but some orgasm denial, humiliation, blow-jobs, etc. Who doesn’t want to be spit-roasted by those 2 delicious Cuban men? 

Also: typos galore. I am sorry. I’ll fix when I am of sound mind.

--

You groaned as you peeled off your dress blues. Your body ached and your head pounded from the beat you had patrolled. It was extraordinarily hot out, despite it being late into the evening. Just a few days earlier, you had been charged on police misconduct as it related to deliberate indifference and as such, you were demoted.

ADA Rafael Barba and your partner Detective Nick Amaro were recused from the case. This was because you, Rafael and Nick were in a polyamorous relationship. Your Captain, Olivia Benson was doing all that she could to get the charges dropped and you reinstated. So in the meantime, you were reassigned as a patrol officer from detective.

The precinct was quiet when you had arrived. Your favorite faded jeans and zipped hoodie were laid out on the bench in front of the shower and you wrapped your hair in a high pony-tail before stepping into the shower. The hot water steamed up the shower stall and you felt you the tension start to melt from your aching muscles. After you had washed up and rinsed clean, you snaked a hand down to between your legs in order to just quickly rub one out. You thought of you two very handsome partners and all of the delicious things you do with them. You let out a soft moan and very quickly bit your lip in an attempt to keep quiet. You could feel your orgasm build and just as you were about to climax, you were interrupted by a burst of cool air as your curtain opened. A familiar voice cleared their throat.

Your eyes flew open and you were face to face with Nick.

“Can I help you?” You asked crossing your arms, as the water continued to run.

“You know you are breaking the rules. You aren’t supposed to touch yourself.” Nick replied with a smirk. His eyes twinkled as he rubbed his hand under his bearded chin. Nick had taken to growing a beard in the last few weeks and some grey/white patches had started to come in, making him all the more attractive.

You narrowed your eyes, before turning your back to him in order to turn off the shower. “What are you doing here? I thought your shift ended.”

“I had to come back and finish some paperwork for Liv. Downstairs told me you hadn’t left. And stop deflecting.” Nick replied, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves.

“Oh come on. I told you I wasn’t in that mood to play that stupid game. I have had enough shit going on.” You replied, annoyed, stepping out of the shower. Nick grabbed your wrist as you pushed past him. He pulled you tightly to him, not caring that he got wet in the process.

“You never used the word. You know it. If you didn’t really want to, you would have said it.” Nick growled quietly. “If you really don’t want to play, then say it.”

You looked to the ground. Nick cupped your chin and forced you to meet his eyes. His dark eyes were blown with lust and you could feel heat pool down at your core. “Come on, say it. Say the safe word.” He continued to goad you.

Your safe word was “frijoles.” You said that and everything stopped, no questions asked. In the times you had been with the two handsome Cuban men, you could count on one hand the amount of times you had to actually use it. You opened your mouth but found yourself at a loss for words.

Instead, you stood on the tips of your toes and wrapped your hand around Nick’s lips and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Your tongues dueled albeit briefly and Nick pulled away. He used his thumb to run it across your bottom lip.  

“I knew it. Now, get dressed and lets go home.” Nick replied. You stood still and Nick cocked his head at you. He turned you around and cupped your buttocks and gave a playful pinch, causing you to squeak. 

“Let’s go Y/N. Don’t keep me waiting.” Nick rumbled in your ear. You could feel his erection pressing along your back and you scurried to get dressed.

--

While Nick continued to have his own home, he also moved into the apartment that you shared with Rafael. You both stepped off the elevator and walked down the hallway that led to your apartment, hand in hand. Nick opened the door and held the door, letting you in first. Rafael was sitting in his office, glasses perched on his head. He was furiously scribbling away, muttering to himself.  

The door shut with a click and he stepped out, smiling warmly at the sight of you two.

“Hey. Welcome home.”  

“Still in a suit? It’s so late.” Nick replied, taking off his jacket and hanging it up.

Rafael shook his head. “Things got away from me – I sat down to write one thing and then ended up re-doing my entire closing. How was today?”  

“Why don’t you tell him sweetheart?” Nick nodded at you. Rafael frowned and approached you.

“Everything okay?” Rafael asked, his voice full of concern. He knew you had taken the demotion hard.  

“Yes. Just a long day and I am tired.” You replied with a sigh. 

“And?” Nick continued, urging you. Rafael’s eyes flitted to Nick, curious as to what the other Cuban knew.  

You didn’t reply, so Nick did for you. “I found our little slut touching herself in the shower.” 

Rafael turned his gaze slowly to you and you felt your cheeks burn. “Is that so princesa?” 

“Si. Lo siento… I just wanted to relax. I needed to just get it out.” You apologized. You started walking towards the bedroom, stripping your shoes, socks and hooded sweatshirt, leaving you in your tank top and jeans.  

Rafael and Nick looked at each other and gave each other a very knowing look. Rafael followed you into the bedroom.  

“What, getting fucked by two cocks isn’t enough? You still aren’t satisfied?” Rafael asked darkly. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” You replied, arching your brow. “Like you or Nick don’t use your hands? Please.” You rolled your eyes defiantly, knowing it would most definitely spur both men and get you in [fun] trouble. 

“You believe the mouth on this one?” Rafael asked Nick.  

“I can think of better uses for her mouth.” Nick laughed. 

“So can I.” Rafael replied, running his hand through his hair. “And because you can’t keep your hands to yourself… Nick, go get ‘em.” 

“En serio?” Nick questioned. Rafael nodded and you looked at Nick. 

“Get what?” You called out after Nick. You whipped your head back to Rafael. “Get what?” You repeated. 

“These.” Nick returned with his pair of handcuffs, hanging off his index finger. He shook them gently, causing the metal to jingle. He tossed them onto the bed. 

Rafael and Nick stalked you and you felt like you were trapped in a snare. 

“Boys…” Your voice hitched a bit. Rafael pulled your hair from the bun, and pulled back your hair. His soft lips brushed against your ear before he nipped it.

“Princesa, you know we wouldn’t do anything to hurt you right?” Rafael questioned. You rested your head against Rafael’s shoulder.

 You smiled, also enjoying the game. “I know. I remember the word.” 

Nick cupped your face and you nodded again, before pressing a kiss into his palm. Nick began to lift your black tank-top while from behind, Rafael made quick work of your jeans and underwear, pulling the materials to the floor and helped you step out of them. The air felt thick with sexual tension and your heart began to beat more quickly. Nick cupped your breasts, twiddling a nipple with his index finger and thumb causing you to gasp. Rafael used his knee to spread your spread your legs. Rafael dropped to his knees to press kisses along the backs of your thighs while Nick kissed you. You shivered feeling Rafael’s hot breath on your skin as you anticipated his next move.

 Rafael pressed his face directly into your ass, almost smothering himself. He placed large kisses along your soft flesh before delving into your folds. Rafael parted your lips and lapped at your flesh at the same time as Nick’s mouth latched onto your nipple, suckling hard. 

You moaned loudly, causing Rafael and Nick to pause his actions. He looked up at Nick, his face glistened with your arousal. Nick swallowed hard at the sight. “She’s so loud.” Rafael replied. “I think it’s time.” 

Nick nodded. “Your office?” 

Rafael smiled wickedly. “Splendid.” He grabbed the handcuffs from the bed. 

Nick lifted you over his shoulder and carried you into Rafael’s office. Rafael smacked your ass as he followed, causing you to squeal. Nick lowered you and you took a step to steady yourself. Nick took the handcuffs from Rafael and twisted your arms behind you and cuffed you. 

You groaned and struggled against them. Your attempts were futile as the handcuffs were securely fastened. 

Rafael threw himself back into this chair. He unzipped his pants and took out his cock, which was painfully hard and weeping. Rafael fisted his cock and stroked twice before letting his thumb glide across the head of his cock, smearing the pre-cum. 

“Time to use that mouth for something else.” Nick teased shoving you down to your knees. “Go suck that beautiful cock.” Rafael’s eyes flitted to Nick’s eyes at the compliment and he was about to say something when you used your tongue to lick his thick shaft.   

“Mierda…” Rafael grunted. You swirled your tongue once more over his length before taking him fully into your mouth. Your warm mouth on his cock caused Rafael to groan loudly. You start to lose your balance slightly and Rafael places a hand on your head to hold you in place. Rafael closed his eyes, his brows furrowed as you continue to suck and slobber all over his cock. The obscene sounds further drive him and he lifted his free arm over the back of his chair, gripping the leather with the tips of his fingernails. 

“Oh fuck Y/N, you’re such a good little cocksucker.” Rafael grunts. “Do you love sucking that cock?” 

A muffled ‘yes’ bled from your mouth. “Such a little slut and you are all ours.” Rafael grunted as his hips begin to lift from the chair he was seated on. 

Nick pulled on your arms, lifting you off Rafael roughly. You gasped for air and Rafael swore loudly. “I was about to come.” Rafael growled.

Nick cocked his head. “Can’t have you have all the fun counselor.” Rafael clicked his tongue with his teeth and began to fist his cock some more.  

“Nick, please.” You beg. “Take off the cuffs. Please. Fuck me.”

“What’s that?” Nick bent down to your ear. 

 “Fuck me. Take off these cuffs. I’ll be a good girl.” You beg. “It’ll be so much better with my hands free.”

“No. Next time we tell you to not touch yourself, maybe you will listen. If you did your job correctly, you wouldn’t be in this mess.” Nick replied softly. He made quick removal of his clothes, tossing them to the side by the door entrance. Rafael followed suit. You stayed on your knees, anticipating their next move.  

“You’re going to go back to sucking his cock and I am going to fuck you into next week.” Nick growled. You nodded and bit your lip. Both men sink to their knees and take their places. Nick pulled on your arms and pulled you up, so Rafael can shove his cock into your mouth. Rafael’s hands grip your head tightly as he begins to fuck your mouth with gusto, causing you to sputter and slobber. Saliva ran out of your mouth as you continued to pleasure Rafael. Your muffled moan filled the room as Nick slipped his fingers inside you.  

“So wet.” Nick keened. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re enjoying this little punishment.” You mumbled something and Rafael shoved your head down harder on his cock, the head hitting the back of your throat. Nick removed his fingers, sucking them clean before pressing his cock into you. He took his time, letting you adjust to his cock for the first few strokes before ramping the intensity of his pounding. The sounds of skin on skin filled the room. Nick was merciless as he fucked you. Every forward motion from behind propelled you on Rafael’s cock. Just as Nick felt your walls start to quiver around his cock, he would pull on your cuffs. The pain from the cuffs would jar you back. Nick ripped orgasm from orgasm from you. It was sensory overload as you were full in almost every orifice and desperate to come. 

Nick could feel his balls swell, ready to explode. “Fuck Nick, I’m about to come.” Rafael grunted as he continued to fuck your mouth. Nick looked at Rafael and leaned over to grab Rafael’s hand. Their eyes met and Nick nodded. Both men groaned and grunted as their cocks kicked and they emptied their loads into you. Nick continued to pump through until he was spent. When he was done, he pulled out and murmured praises against your skin before retrieving the handcuff keys. 

Rafael caught you as you collapsed, your mind fuzzy and exhausted. “Let’s take care of you.” Rafael murmured.

Rafael pulled you up and he sat back down on the chair. He pulled you up, so you were sitting on his lap, back to chest. Rafael sucked on the slope of your neck as Nick’s fingers ghosted over your swollen nub. You were already so close, and all it took was a few circles of your clit from Nick while Rafael pinched your nipples and you came hard, seeing stars as you wailed both men’s names. 

Hands were over as you came down, caressing you. Continued appraisals flurried over you along with kisses.  

“You were so good.” Rafael murmured. Nick hummed his agreement into your thighs as he continued to pepper your skin with kisses. Rafael stood up and carried you to the bedroom. Nick followed, joining you both. You curled into Rafael’s lap, laying your head against his chest as you listened to his heart beat normalize. Nick pressed a kiss to the top of your head before pulling the covers on. 

“Y/N?” Rafael questioned. You lifted your head. “Yeah?” Your eyes were starting to flutter with sleepiness. 

“I spoke with the other ADA. The charges are being dropped and you’re being reinstated per Liv starting Monday.”  

You sat up. A smile crossed your face and you slapped a hand over your mouth. You were giddy with excitement and all feelings of sleep escaped.  

You pulled the sheets off and climbed on top of Rafael. “I thought you were going to tell her in the morning. Now we’re never going to sleep.” Nick complained, looking at the clock. “I have an early shift.” 

“I think this calls for a celebration.” 

And you did. With both men. Over and over again. As the sun rose over the Manhattan skyline the next day, it flooded the bedroom. It barely disturbed your sleeping figures. 

Nick ended up taking the day off.

FIN.

Tag list: @madpanda75 @mgarner1227  @delia26   @tropes-and-tales  @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @kscarlett1 @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @blk0912 @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi​ @caked-crusader- anyone else, just ask!

[kaleidoscopeheartandsoul]

Lie to Me Theory: Music Video

Start Here: Lie to Me Theory: Timeline 

There is no way to beat around this part of theory. It must be approached directly and bravely. All of what has happened in the timeline to here has left people distracted. So no one would be looking for the ultimate truth in a video about lying. Luke is singing. He addresses four different people. Everyone is represented by cars: three different parties. Two different agendas for being in relationships. All stemming from one reason. 

First we need to talk about the two truly significant elements of the Lie to Me Music Video: the lyrics and the center car. 

What do we mean by lyrics? The ones available on AZlyrics or Genius? The ones they’re singing? Not this time.

From the video description.

Artist frequently put their lyrics in the description of their videos. 5SOS does this on a number of their videos. This is the only one of their videos where the lyrics in the description 1. from a different version of the song and 2. have a typo in them

Here is one of the screenshots of the LTM Official MV that I took.

These were the official lyrics that Ashton, Calum and Luke wrote with Ali Tamposi. And then a very talented and good female singer, Julia Michaels, was brought in so they could make the official lyrics publicly available

It is strange that they would do this. Why not just leave both versions of the lyrics under the proper versions of each video? Unless the lyrics of the official audio version aren’t actually the right lyrics.

It is careless and weird that the grammar on most of their videos (all of their other music videos) is good and then suddenly on LTM the first typo on a music video appears. They would have caught it and fixed it by now, surely. 

These boys don’t know how to spell “Change” huh? ‘Chang’

Don’t know how to edit the description of a YouTube video? Forgot to? Don’t care to?  Remember when Michael told Luke on twitter to go back to school.

Change is the only word mispelled in the description of any of their music videos...because the lyrics were “Changed.” 

Yes, it is entirely possible something this cryptic occurred. 

Think Think Think

The cleverness within this band should not be underestimated. Time and time again, artists under Modest! have used covert means to convey the truth of their situations without the majority of their audiences noticing. 

These in the description are the original lyrics of LTM. The lyrics of the official release were changed to fit the image that management wanted to promote. This seems to be the implication, so interpretation of the music video rests on these lyrics and not the ones they are singing.

Symbolic Cars

This part was easy for people to pick up on. 

Represented on the passenger side of the center car by 96 like Hemmo1996.

Then there’s the other side of the car.

Represented on the driver’s side of the center car by these two lower-cased letters: ae.  So who’s ae?

There are a number of options for people special enough in Luke’s life that he might want in the car with him, in fact, a person he cares enough about that that person might be the driver. A person with ae in their name. So there’s a lot of those. What narrows down the options is that ae is a person who is close to  Luke but in the same situation as Luke. They are both circled by cars that represent threats to their wellbeing. So you can decide who ae is. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this video was released the week of Michael Clifford’s engagement. That would be ludicrous.

Now we can talk about the video story

L can see the mess before he agrees to be a part of it. The two cars are already circling like sharks before he gets into the car. He still gets into the car, sitting in the backseat. He’s surrendered for the next half of the video. Pain and heartbreak etched into his face. 

The circling cars represent “toxic people” like Ashton clued. So the circling cars are toxic relations.

He addresses the first chorus primarily to the circling car with toxic person #1.  This is a person who left him not only emotionally fraught but publicly humiliated him and scarred his reputation, then dropped all responsibility for fun and left him to do the clean up.

And now I wish we never met 

because you are too hard to forget

While I’m cleaning up your mess

I know he’s taking off your dress

And I know that you don’t, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

The easy interpretation: 

1.     The person involved is sleeping with someone else but L isn’t angry that he’s been betrayed. Maybe because he loves her so much he could even forgive that...or maybe because he actually never loved her.

2.    Her marks on his life still causes a lot of grief because she publicly humiliated him and took no responsibility, so this is why all his regret stems from being stuck in the dump she threw him into 

3.     But he’s in communication with her---so he can ask her questions. Like if she still loves him. But that doesn’t make sense if he didn’t even like her that much.

“LTM represents when someone is in a relationship for something other than what you are there for.” Like fame or publicity, but Luke is using her for something else entirely.

Luke was being used because he was in a vulnerable situation. He still is in a vulnerable situation. It made it easy for others to hurt him but he didn’t rely on them. 

He starts by regretting the toxic relationship, but in these last two lines, he is turning to a different person, his person. 

Luke’s voice lifts at the end of each chorus as he turns to his last hope. “And I know that you don’t” because he sees how disgusted the person must be by the situation “but if I ask you if you love me, I hope you lie...” I hope you’ll love me. Despite how much you couldn’t--don’t like me.  

It’s 3 am and the moonlight’s testing me

I know you’ve been holding onto someone else

And now I can’t sleep (Ah)

I ain’t happy, oh

I ain’t too happy, oh

This verse starts immediately after the first time we get to see the driver’s side of the car where it says ae. This is extremely coincidental. It’s shifting focus onto another person. 

So he’s addresses ae basically, ‘I feel tested. I’ve turned to you and begged you to take me, but you’ve been acting like me, holding on to the same stories I’ve been through with a toxic person. It worries me. I am not happy. But I am also not mad at you.’

 Luke holds back from accusing ae even though he would like to. He is wounded again by ae’s actions but he does not want to outright blame ae for the situation that they are both stuck in the center of. 

 Flashing back to New York City 

Chang your flight so you stay with me

Remember thinking that I got this right

‘Flashing back’ is when we recall memories. Nostalgia sets in for a better time. The first pre-chorus, Luke has a balance he is reminiscing about when he at the time thought he could balance both of his relationships perfectly. There was turmoil of course--the need to re-negotiate flights because of a mess up with leaving to New York--but it was alright after that and that’s why he was led into a false sense of security that he got this “right.” Did anyone ever have to change flights when they were trying to leave New York city because of a mistake. 

It’s funny that I thought this typo was on purpose because the official lyric again is ‘Change your flight so you stay with me’ but if it was really meant to be ‘changed’ then it would fit a dual purpose, warning us about the lyric flop and talking about that one time someone had their flight changed when they were trying to stay with Luke too. I’m dropping hints like bombs but I’m not saying what I’m talking about yet and it’s hilarious and terrible. Later post I promise. 

Flashing back to New York City

I was done but you undid me

Classic me to run when it feels right

The second time, Luke runs away from New York City, symbol of stability and security within his relationship with ae. He was done--he didn’t have any interest in connection with any of the toxic ones--but you undid me--again the theme of being humiliated and having a slaughtered reputation, the pain that goes with that. And now after the 3am verse  Luke is with ae, and done with TP #1, but ae’s ‘someone else,’ the second circling car, the other toxic person, is there to ruin Luke’s life again but by being attached to ae. This time Luke wants out. He’s so done already but this person is causing him double the agony that the last one did because he’s involving someone he cares for deeply. And he leaves the car before either of the circling cars smash into it. There is no Luke to hurt. Luke got out when “it feels right.” He knew this time that things were going well with ae but he gave up on ae because he was tired.

While Luke was humiliated, and went through a great deal of grief because of his toxic relationship, at no time during the car collisions do we see 96. Instead, the footage of the driver’s side of the car with the prominent ae is flipped so it looks as though the wheel of the car is on the right side passenger side of the car. It’s as though everything that once applied to Luke’s situation now applies to ae’s cause holy shit.

As it turns out, ae takes the hardest hit. The tempo is the most upbeat it was the entire video during the last chorus.  Luke is still surrendered to the situation but he’s protesting against the way they have been treated. Now all the boys are united, not just watching Luke. They’re all supporting each other. Luke is talking to Toxic Relationship person 2 in this chorus. He is stronger now. He’s done this before and the boys are supporting him. He’s standing up for ae. 

Last chorus: 

Now I wish we never met 

'Cause you're too hard to forget 

While he's taking off my dress 

I know she's laying on your chest

The relationship between himself and ae is the strongest it’s ever been, but even when ae’s taking off Luke’s clothes, Luke can tell that ae’s toxic relationship weighs on his heart. It is as though she is laying on his chest like depression weighs on the heart. Also this is gay if it’s real. 

Final verses:

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me 

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me 

Singing, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie 

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie 

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie 

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie (Yeah yeah) 

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me 

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

The last part “I know that you don’t....” is repeated twice with many desperate pleas for lies. It is repeated twice for both types of relationships: toxic and ae. 

For toxic, he hopes that they pretend that they love him. He’ll even sing their lies. For ae, he hopes whenever they are in public playing their games of animosity, if he ever slips up and does something loving or a giveaway, he hopes ae will lie about loving Luke too and follow through playing their pretend game of hate because it’s the only way to avoid making the situation worse, and that’s the one thing the management and the boys want. 

Then the car explodes

Because he knows, they know, it’s not going to work. All the lies are going to blow them up. So the car explodes. Showing ae. The lies literally made ae explode. 

An hour after the Lie to Me Music Video premieres, Michael’s fiancee announces publicly that they are engaged.  

Take care everyone :) tpwk including you