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wishesunderthestars · 4 years ago

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Eunoia // Ch. 14

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 15k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, past sexual abuse, derogetory language, sexual harassment

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

It has been a long time, I know. Thanks for being patient with me. This was supposed to be the last chapter of Yoongi and Hoseok’s part but I just couldn’t fit everything that needed to happen inside or it would turn into a 30k chapter and be even more late, so I divided it into two.

The taglist is now closed.

Four days felt like a much smaller amount of time than when you had first been informed of your break. When you heard the alarm the morning you had to go back to work, you were tempted to ignore it and cover your head with the sheets. This was strange for two reasons. You always woke up before your alarm and it was impossible for you to fall asleep again after waking up, even when you were exhausted. But your eyes were heavy and sleep was clinging to your bones.

You reached for your phone and turned off the alarm. The hybrids were waiting for you in the kitchen, breakfast already served. You thanked Seokjin, who looked the most awake. Jimin and Jungkook were leaning against each other with their eyes half closed, small yawns escaping them every few minutes. It was a little earlier than the time you usually left but you had to do some work in the company building before you could go to the studios. Hoseok's injuries were much better, you didn't need to check on them twice a day anymore so you avoided going to their room and waking them up.

The fox hybrid had been opening up more and he looked more at ease with his surroundings. After eating dinner with you on the first night of your break, he had timidly asked if they could join you again. His whole face lit up when you told him they would always be welcome. Dinners had turned into lunches too, claiming that way you didn't have to carry the trays to their room every day.

You weren't surprised at how well he got along with Jimin. His heart-shaped smile had even charmed Namjoon. He was fascinated with every little thing and you made use of your break to show him around the house. It could be a little overwhelming, so you stuck to the basics at first. The kitchen, the upstairs living room, the library (where at least one of you could be found most times) and the cinema room. He looked at everything in wonder, his red tail wagging behind him. Yoongi trailed after you, the bored expression on his face slipping at how happy and excited Hoseok was.

The second day of your break Jimin announced that you would all be watching a movie. He would accept no complaints, not that there were any. You made enough popcorn for a whole movie theater while Seokjin and Jungkook made pizza. You strictly forbade them from putting on one of your movies. You were so deeply involved and connected with them you had trouble watching them without overthinking every scene, line and camera angle. Jimin pouted, joined by Jungkook and a more subtle Hoseok. But you didn’t budge. Jimin huffed and selected a comedy with an actor Seokjin liked.

It was the third day of your break and Jimin had dragged you with him to the guest suite, saying he needed his daily cuddles. You were laying together in his bed as you played with his blond strands. His hair was growing longer and he was complaining that it was falling in his eyes but you loved running your hands through it, your fingers getting lost inside. Jimin snuggled into your side, his tail wrapped around your waist.

“You are very affectionate today,” you said. Jimin let out an unsatisfied noise when you stopped massaging his scalp, so you moved your hand upwards, scratching behind his cat ears, eliciting a small moan from him.

“I am always affectionate,” he said, nuzzling against your collarbones. “You’re just not here and you’re tired when you come back.”

You placed a kiss on the crown of his head. “Sorry.” It was your job. You shouldn’t feel guilty. And yet…

Jimin raised his head, your hand falling from his hair to rest on his cheek. “Don’t be. I just wish you were here more. With us. But your job is important.”

“I guess,” you said caressing his cheek, the cat hybrid leaning into your touch. “I’ll try to get some more time off when I go back to work.” It would be difficult but not impossible. There were often breaks for a couple of days in the filming schedule but you usually spent those revising scripts or reviewing the work of the various departments or attending meetings. Many of those things weren’t actually your responsibilities, they weren’t in your contract, you did them because you wanted everything to be perfect. You could take a step back for once and make up for it later.

Jimin leaned against you, purring happily at the prospect of spending more time with you. He had been clinging to you in the past days after your week-long absence. The first night after making up with Jungkook he had slept with him in their room and you’d thought he would sleep there from now on. But the next night you had come out of the shower to find him laying in your bed.

A talk show was playing on the TV, filling the comfortable silence of the room. Jimin whispering your name had you looking away from the screen. “Hoseok is doing better, right?”

“He is. He’s recovering fast. Why are you asking?” you asked, worried that he had noticed something you hadn’t. Hybrids had much more developed senses than humans that could have detected something you had missed.

“He’s nice,” he said, playing with the fake buttons of your shirt. “He looks so happy all the time and he’s so energetic.”

“He is. See? He’s really getting better.” That didn’t seem to satisfy Jimin.

“What if they want to leave now that he’s better?”

You cooed at him, pulling him closer. “Is that what’s brought this on? If they want to leave we can’t stop them. The door is always open if they don’t want to be here anymore. They only came here because Hoseok was injured and he couldn’t go to the hospital.”

“But can they stay?” His eyes were shining as he looked up at you. “Please.”

“They can stay for as long as they want. But I can’t force them to stay.”

Jimin didn’t say anything more, hiding into your side. Last night at dinner, Jimin had been quiet and withdrawn, glancing at Yoongi every few minutes. There was history between them, one that ran deep and cut just as hard. From little clues and pieces and what Jimin himself had told you, you had pieced together an image of Jimin’s past but you had trouble finding where exactly Yoongi fit.

You hadn’t forgotten Jimin’s words in your office the day you had invited the two hybrids in your house. Yoongi once belonged to the same man Jimin did. They had done something to him and Jimin had been left to the adoption center he had escaped from. Yoongi had been left somewhere else, you guessed a less savory place. But you couldn’t figure out what they could have done to be kicked out. Something Jimin still felt guilty about. Betrayal was a strong and sticky word and it was hard to associate it with sweet Jimin, even when that man deserved that and more.

Yoongi was a mystery surrounded by several brick walls. Only a wrecking ball could break them down. You were the kind of person to knock on a wall and wait for it to crumble by itself when it came to people. At work, if the only way to get through an obstacle was a wrecking ball, you would bring a wrecking ball.

Surprises weren’t uncommon for you (see: Virginia earthquake), you had learnt to face them head on and control the consequences. But that hadn’t prepared you for the string of surprises during your break and the days after that.

The first surprise came with how well Hoseok was getting along with the other hybrids. His endearing excitement about anything and everything didn’t fail to amuse them. He would curl up on the grass, bathing in sunlight, often joined by Jimin who had developed the same habit when spring first arrived. He was curious about everything, asking question after question with his red fluffy tail wagging behind him like an overexcited puppy. All of you couldn’t help but humor him and try to answer his questions to the best of your abilities.

The second surprise shocked you more than the first. It was the third night the two hybrids were eating dinner with you in the backyard. Yoongi usually didn’t talk, opting to focus on his food while observing the progression of the meal. Thus when he spoke, everyone fell silent. He didn’t say much, it only took him a couple of seconds to compliment Jin’s cooking then become quiet again. Jin stuttered through his thanks, flustered at the unexpected compliment. The panther hybrid didn’t talk again for the rest of the meal.

The third surprise was seeing Yoongi and Jimin sitting next to each other, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking. Being pulled to each other like a moth to the flame. It made Hoseok all too happy to spend time with both of them.

The fourth surprise came in the form of a text from a contact you hadn’t interacted with since Christmas. You laid back on your bed, staring at the paragraphs-long text and forgetting about anything else. You stared and stared as if the letters would rearrange themselves, or better yet disappear if you stared long enough.

You didn’t notice how much time you had spent there unmoving until there was a knock on the door.

“Open,” you called.

The door was pushed open and Namjoon walked into the room, his gray hair falling in his face. In the mornings he looked younger. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Yeah,” you said, not moving. They never had to call you for breakfast. Your schedules had become so in sync you arrived for breakfast the moment it was ready or a few minutes early.

“What happened?” Namjoon asked. He approached, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“Nothing happened, I guess. It’s an invitation.” The text had been sent late last night but you had missed it, leaving your phone to charge upon coming back home and not looking at it again. “It’s from my parents. For a gala.”

“Your parents?” The surprise was evident in his face. You didn’t talk much about your parents, those were conversations you didn’t tend to enjoy. Your parents were a topic you weren’t well-versed in and your lack of confidence was irritating.

You looked at the text again, black letters surrounded by gray. “They invited me to a fashion gala. They would really appreciate it if I could attend.” Reading the text again, you wondered if your mother had asked someone else to write it before deeming it persuasive enough to send. “It’s held in Beverly Hills.”

“When?” Namjoon asked.

“Saturday. In less than a week.” It was Tuesday.

Namjoon glanced at your phone. “Do you want to go?”

The answer was more complicated than you would have liked. You didn’t feel like buying a new gown (god forbid if you wore a dress you had worn before at such an event), having your makeup and hair done and plastering a smile on your face while exchanging pleasantries with people you didn’t know for the whole night. But it wasn’t that easy. You hadn’t attended the Christmas event your mother had organized, using work as an excuse, not feeling like showing up at an event in the mindset you had fallen into. Although she didn’t show it, your mother had been offended.

You couldn’t skip another event.

You threw an arm over your eyes, groaning. “I can’t not go. My mother organized the gala, it will look bad if I’m not there.”

“I could come with you,” Namjoon offered.

It would be nice having someone there with you. Namjoon had a way of calming you down and settling your worries but actually remembering those galas made you change your mind. The rich and mighty loved showing off their wealth and power and hybrids were part of that allure. You wouldn’t subject Namjoon to that. You weren’t sure how he would react. You didn’t want to subject him to your parents’ scrutiny either.

“It would be better if I went alone,” you said. Namjoon threaded his fingers with yours in understanding. He pulled on your hand until you were sitting up on the bed, facing him.

“If you don’t want to go, you shouldn’t.”

Only that it wasn’t so simple. Or it was just your human nature making this overcomplicated.

“My mother will be really disappointed if I don’t go. I didn’t go to her last event, either. It will look bad if I don’t go to this one too.” Namjoon squeezed your hand, urging you to continue. “I’m just tired of them. Galas, events, they are all the same and not in a good way. Sure, there are some people worth talking too. I’ve had some great conversations there, but those are far and few in between. Most people are just trying to outshine the one next to them. And my mother only wants me there to complete the picture.”

The powerful and influential couple with their successful daughter. It was an image that haunted you. Most times you tried to ignore it because it wasn’t fair of you to judge your parents like that. They never made you attend those events, they didn’t get angry when you couldn’t make it. But it left a sour taste in your mouth when those events were the only times you saw them anymore.

“You don’t have to be alone there.” Namjoon brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of your palm. “I’m always here if you change your mind. It would feel better if you weren’t alone.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want you there. I do,” you said. “But that isn’t a world you want to be a part of, it isn’t really my world either. There, hybrids are just expensive accessories and I don’t want people to look at you like that. Like you are something to be had.”

Namjoon’s eyes were soft on you as he cupped your cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “That’s how most people look at us. It isn’t something new. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m used to it.”

“But it isn’t right.” You sounded like a five-year-old complaining that the world wasn’t fair because her parents didn’t buy her ice cream but you couldn’t help it. “And it isn’t just the other people, the guests. I’m not sure about my parents either. They don’t know I’ve adopted you. Actually, they don’t know about anything that has happened in my life this year.”

“I understand if you don’t want them to know about us.”

“It isn’t that,” you said. “Not exactly. I don’t want them involved in my business and judging my choices. They- They are my parents and I guess they care about me in their own way but I won’t be able to stay calm if they look at you like they are estimating your price tag.”

Namjoon leaned closer, bringing your foreheads together. You closed your eyes, surrounded by his warmth. “All I care about is for you to feel comfortable and if my presence there will make things worse then I won’t come with you. But if you change your mind, I’ll be right here. Whatever you want, I’m here.”

You tilted your head, waiting for his lips to touch yours. You shared a sweet kiss before there was another knock at the door.

“Namjoon! Did you wake her up?” Seokjin shouted from the other side of the door. “The breakfast is getting cold! I woke up at the crack of dawn to make it!”

You giggled as you separated.

“Let’s go before he decides we don’t deserve food,” Namjoon said.

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You had to readjust your schedule for the gala. There were many things you had to do in the five days leading up to it. Your mother was so pleased you accepted the invitation she called you the very next day to tell you how happy she was you would be attending. She hadn’t organized a fashion gala in years and it meant a lot that you would be there to support her. The gala was all about the importance of fashion and the unique interpretations of old and new big names in the industry. It would be one of the grandest events of the year, even if your mother was as clueless about fashion as she was about your life. She enjoyed watching the glorious parts and giving compliments, but rarely got more involved than that.

She had arranged for you to meet with one of the designers featured at the event. You could choose a dress from his collection that would be showcased at the gala. Your mother reassured you that they would do everything so your dress would be fitted to your exact measurements and ready for you to wear on time. You didn’t complain. It would be otherwise impossible to find a dress of the caliber your mother expected in such a short time.

The designer came to your house himself with his assistants. He was a nice young man with a tilted accent revealing that he wasn’t originally from the United States. You made small talk about the different kinds of art characterizing your jobs. They took your measurements and presented you with a few options the designer had selected for you. Some were more eccentric than others but all of them were beautiful.

After discussing with him and listening to his opinions, you selected a piece with gold and red embroidery and a flowy skirt. He was very pleased with your choice, going on and on about how good it would look on you. You felt fluttered at how excited he was for you to wear his design.

You had to meet him again a few days later for the first fitting. He offered to come to your house again but it would be easier for the alterations to be at his studio, where all of his tools were.

Jimin had seen the opportunity to spend more time with you and put on his most convincing puppy eyes asking you to take him with you to the fashion studio. You had no reason to refuse, you wanted to spend more time with him too. Somehow Jimin roped Seokjin into coming with you as well. They waited for you outside until the alterations were done. You couldn’t resist spoiling them while you were out so you took them for waffles. From Seokjin’s stuffed face it was safe to say he enjoyed them.

You had to go back to work after the fitting but Jimin was clinging to you not letting you go, which was how you ended up with the two of them at the final table-reading for the first episode of the Raven Cycle. They both quietly watched the actors delivering their lines. Jimin leaned forward in his seat as he got more and more invested in the scenes, snapping out of it whenever one scene ended and you discussed corrections and suggestions.

The atmosphere was light and friendly. You were professionals and you believed in maintaining a healthy environment of communication and mutual respect that left space for jokes and friendships to develop. The chemistry between the actors was important and you found that when they were friends and had a bond in real life too, it showed.

“Okay, that was great. I liked Ronan’s extra lines, we should keep that in.” The writer next to you wrote it down. “It’s getting late so let’s take a small break for a few minutes and move on to scene fifteen and sixteen and we’re completely done with episode one.” Everyone agreed with you and soon chatter was filling the room. You stretched your arms behind you, your body was complaining after sitting for too many hours.

The snacks and refreshments on the table against the wall were dwindling as the table-reading went on. All the important people in the project were there; the executive producers, the writers, the heads of the various departments and of course all the main actors of the first episode. The room with the large table and the many couches and chairs was large enough for everyone.

Three more days of table reading, which was mainly for revisions, and you would be done, leaving around a week before filming was scheduled to start. Just on time. Despite unfortunate surprises and earthquakes, you were on time. Next week you would be back in the studios standing behind the cameras watching years of work and planning coming to life. The first moments of filming in every movie or TV show whispered to you in silver and gold lines that you couldn’t describe as anything else than magic.

You picked up a bottle of water and a sandwich from the snack table, getting caught up in a short conversation with one of the producers. Your scalp was beginning to hurt from the tight ponytail your hair was trapped in. With a pat on your shoulder, the producer left to find the head of the costume department.

Jimin and Jin were sitting on the smallest couch, away from the table in the middle of the room. Jimin’s ears twitched as you settled on the armrest. You handed him the sandwich.

“For me?”

“You have been looking at it as much as you have been looking at the actors.”

Jimin still didn’t take a bite. “I already ate two.”

“And now you will eat one more.” You nudged the sandwich closer to his face. “They are quite small. I think Will has eaten seven since we started.” You glanced at your assistant, he was talking with two of the actors.

Jimin smiled at you like you were sharing a secret before diving into his sandwich. You opened your water bottle and gulped down half of it in seconds.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? It’s past eight and it will take at least one more hour to finish the last two scenes and wrap everything up.” You had asked them if they wanted to leave three times since you’d arrived and the answer had been the same each time.

“It’s eight?” Jin asked, pulling out his phone from his pocket. You leaned over Jimin to peek at the screen seeing a few texts from Namjoon and Jungkook and notifications from the various apps Jin used. You had texted Namjoon earlier so he wouldn’t worry that Jin and Jimin hadn’t returned home.

“And it will be at least nine by the time I’m done,” you said.

“We’ve been here for three hours. We can wait for you one more.” Jin opened the messages app reading the texts, a smile appearing on his face.

Jimin had eaten more than half of the sandwich, crumbs sticking at the sides of his mouth. “I want to see what happens at the end. Pretty please?”

“We will wait for you,” Jin said. “We don’t have anything better to do,” he added, to which Jimin agreed enthusiastically. You scratched the cat hybrid's ears while he devoured the rest of the sandwich.

What you hadn’t considered before taking them with you was that the table reading would give away many spoilers for the show. Spoilers were the bane of your existence. Not everyone minded them but you disliked them with passion. You had almost strangled Zayn when he had told you a spoiler he had seen on Twitter for the ending of Avengers: Infinity War, minutes before the movie started. Zayn had been very lucky the lights hadn’t gone out yet. The suspense was one of your favorite parts and that was ruined for you when you knew what would happen.

At least it was the first episode but there was a lot of discussion on how certain parts or pieces of dialogue would connect with later episodes. The fact that it was an adaptation also changed things. You had been adamant about staying true to the original story and keeping in as many scenes from the book as you could. Your additions revolved around character development, the relationships between the characters, and some conflicts that hadn’t been in the book but you had discussed in length with Maggie. In this case, you didn’t know exactly how to define spoilers.

As expected, you finished the table reading twenty minutes past nine. Gathering all your folders from the table, the scripts, and various notes from the writers and producers, you hid them all away in your backpack. Henrietta and the magical forest were coming to life from their voices alone. You could already imagine how captivating it would be on screen.

Jimin was laying his head on Jin’s shoulder with his arm wrapped around the older’s waist. It had taken some time for them to relax in the room full of strangers, some of who hadn’t been subtle about staring. One look from you and their gazes had darted away. It still wasn’t common to have a hybrid, much less three, but you didn’t care how curious they were if they were making Jimin and Jin uncomfortable.

During the first break, early at the table reading, you had been roped into a debate about a possible change in one of the scenes. The two hybrids had kept to themselves, staying quiet and watching. The actress playing Blue had walked up to them with a wide smile and introduced herself. The remaining tension in them was released when she struck up a conversation with them.

“Time to get going,” you said. Jimin looked up at you, blinking drowsily. “Should I tell John to carry you to the car?”

“We’re leaving?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Thankfully yes so you need to get up.” You had wrapped everything up, saying goodbye to everyone and you were ready to go.

Jin kissed Jimin’s blond curls. “Let’s go and get you into an actual bed.” He got up and pulled Jimin with him, the younger hybrid was clinging to his back like a koala from the hallway where you met up with John to the parking lot.

In the car, you looked at them through the rear-view mirror. Jimin’s eyes were closed, laying his head on Jin’s shoulder.

“Hard day?” John asked, moving the gear shift to the left and then up.

“I’m a little afraid that my scenario might be a little boring,” you said glancing behind you. “It’s too early for him to be falling asleep.”

The car started moving, leaving the dimly lit parking lot behind. “He’s not used to being out for that long,” Jin said smoothing down Jimin’s hair with care. Jin cared for you with everything he had, you tried to do the same but it was close to impossible with how busy you were.

“If it’s my scenario though, I need to rewrite that thing from beginning to end.”

John chuckled. “Good luck telling that to the writers and the producers. They’ll love it.”

They’d love it as much as cats loved swimming.

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You took the day of the gala off. If you went to the gala tired after work, you wouldn’t be able to put a smile on your face and keep it there. It wasn’t so much that the galas were awful but that you felt out of place in them. Your mother had many connections and she would invite the “best” of her world. Some faces had become familiar, a steady fixture in your mother’s guest lists. Some faces you should be able to recognize but you didn’t, resulting in interactions based on pretending.

At the after-parties of award shows and premieres, you were more at ease. The designer dresses and suits were the same, worn by rich and influential people, but it was people you knew and respected. Your skin wasn’t prickling at the tension, lost somewhere between remembering a name or a company and ignoring the jabs at other guests or the rumors spreading like vines.

The last event you had attended was in New York last September, it had been the event of the year according to your mother. Jacob had accompanied you, hugging your mother and shaking hands with your father. He had stayed next to you from the moment you stepped into the place to the moment you got into the car to leave. You had to somewhat agree with your mother. A lot of interesting people were in attendance, famous writers and journalists, and you succeeded in ignoring the less favorable situations.

Your parents had changed a lot, or maybe it was just the circumstances that had changed and the different perspective you had as an adult. You used to cast them as the absentee parents, an overused trope you didn't find much merit in. It was too simple, too straightforward. They didn't disappear from one day to the next, cutting all contact with you. It was more like the times they were there grew fewer and fewer until they had moved permanently to New York by the time you were eight. Your father had been offered a position he couldn't refuse and your mother loved him too much to leave him alone there. She tried, she tried to stay for you but she had been trying to find a reason to leave your hometown since she was a teenager. The penthouses and neat offices fit her far better than the beaches and town squares ever did.

It started as a few weeks at first. Your father would be staying in the city for some meetings and your mother wanted to join him. His job involved a lot of traveling and in most of your memories, he was holding a suitcase. A few weeks turned into a month the next time, then into a few months you had to stay with your aunt and your cousins. After you turned eight, they were coming back only for a few weeks every year.

When you were ten you stopped answering their calls and refused to talk to them. Your mother still tried, even traveled back to be with you. Instead of staying at your house with her, you stayed with your aunt. Your mother left defeated. It took a year for you to speak to them again. Childish, but you couldn't blame your past self. The cracks in your relationship with your parents were still there. As an attempt to prevent them from widening and growing, you at least tried to attend the events your mother invited you to.

Another one to add to the list.

"Does the duck look ready to you?" you asked Jin. Roasted duck wasn't a dish you had experience with but that wasn't the only reason you called for Jin. Being home for the day you had offered to help Jin cook lunch. Cooking helped take your mind off, focusing on the recipe and chatting with Jin.

Jin left the lettuce he was washing in the bowl and dried his hands in a towel. His steps were careful and measured, one of his hands holding on the counter.

"It looks good," he said. "You can take it out."

You opened the oven, pulling back last minute so the heat wouldn't burn your face. "It smells incredible! I think I got ten times hungrier just smelling this."

Jin chuckled but it was strained. "I'm too good at this." He was still holding onto the counter.

"You won't catch me complaining."

He went back to the lettuce in the sink, his bangs falling into his face and covering his eyes. You wrapped the chicken breasts in foil and let them rest for a few minutes. The figs were caramelized and the potatoes fried until golden. That was about it for the main dish.

Jin was cutting the lettuce so you occupied yourself with making the salad dressing. You worked in silence. It wasn't for the lack of anything to say but a flinch from Jin earlier, while you had been talking, had you lowering your voice and then closing your mouth when you were finished with that sentence. It was only for a moment before he turned away, but it was enough for you to notice. You had asked him if he was alright twice and both times the answer had been the same. After that, it was clear he wouldn't tell you anything else regardless of how many times you asked.

A thud echoed in the room followed, not a second after, by the sound of metal clattering on wood. The spoon you used to mix the ingredients of the salad dressing stilled in your hand. Jin had fallen to his knees on the floor, holding the counted with one hand and his head with the other. The knife laid abandoned on the cutting board next to the lettuce.

For a moment your surroundings blurred from the surprise before coming into crystal clear focus. You rushed to Jin's side, who was trying to pull himself back up to his feet.

"I'm alright. I slipped," he said.

"You slipped? Seriously?" You had one arm around his waist and it stayed there as he leaned back against the counter. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little dizzy," Jin muttered. That close to him, only a breath away, you could see how pale he was, the dark circles under his eyes standing out against the white of his skin.

"You haven't been alright since we started cooking. You aren't just a little dizzy, that's not how someone is when they're a little dizzy."

Jin turned his head to the side, avoiding your gaze. "Let it go, please. Only the salad is left. I'll rest after we eat."

"Jin, that's not..." Clueless about how to continue, you pressed your palm to his forehead. In winter your hands were always freezing cold, it didn't matter if the temperature wasn't that low they would turn into popsicles mere seconds after going outside. Only that it wasn’t winter but spring and your hands were as warm as they could be, that’s why it was that much more concerning that his forehead was warmer than it should be under your touch. “You’re burning up. How are you still standing?”

“It isn’t that bad,” Jin said. He wasn’t looking at you.

“It isn’t that bad?” you repeated in disbelief. “Forget about the salad, I’m taking you to your room.”

You were about to turn around when Jin gripped your elbow weakly. “You don’t need to, really, I can finish up here, it isn’t the first time. I can do it.” The sweat that was gathering on his forehead and his tired eyes told a different story.

“You have been cooking while feeling sick?” you asked. Being out of the house almost all day it wouldn’t have been hard to miss and when you came back at night you weren’t that aware of your surroundings, but the other hybrids would have been able to see past Jin’s pretenses.

“Not here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

That’s something you should have expected. You had never met his previous owners but you couldn’t stop yourself from hating them for what they had done to him. Hate was too strong of a word but you didn’t have any other name for the burning in your chest whenever you witnessed how insecure and self-conscious Jin had become of them.

You cupped his cheek in your palm turning his head to face you and you rested your forehead against his, your noses bumping. At the touch his shoulders slumped, his back muscles unraveling under your hand. Jin joked that it was weird that his scent glands weren’t in the same places as other hybrids’ but in strange places like his forehead. You couldn’t agree with him because standing there with your foreheads touching it was just as intimate.

The walk to his room was silent. You opened the door for him and watched him hide under the covers, between the countless pillows and stuffed animals. Before leaving, you placed a kiss on his forehead your lips warming up because of his fever. You wanted to stay there with him and with the way he was holding your hand he wanted the same but the lettuce was waiting for you back in the kitchen and there were five hybrids you had to feed.

Finishing up the meal was a matter of minutes. The dressing for the salad had been made and you only had to finish cutting the lettuce and a few fresh tomatoes before mixing everything in a large bowl. You unwrapped the foil from around the duck breasts and arranged them in plates, adding the figs with the pan juices and the fried potatoes. It looked like something you would order at a five-star restaurant, most of Jin’s cooking did.

The mouth-watering aroma must have drifted downstairs because as you were putting the last touches on the plates two sets of feet were running up the staircase. Jimin looked like he had been lured into the kitchen by some magical force, transfixed on the plates on the counter. He sniffed, making tiny happy noises.

“This smells so good. I’m hungry!” he whined.

Jungkook followed behind, taking a look at the plates and turning to you with pleading eyes. “When are we eating?”

You shook your head at their antics. “I just finished up, you can take them down if you want so stop looking at me like that.”

Jimin pouted, his shoulders raising. “Looking at you like what?”

“Stop that, I know what you’re doing.”

Jimin continued on, batting his eyelashes at you. “What am I doing? Am I not doing good?”

You pinched his cheek, making him giggle. “I thought you were hungry but apparently you aren’t hungry enough if you’re still here instead of taking the food down.” At that Jungkook was quick to take out the large trays and fill them with the plates and bowls.

Jimin went to help before pausing. “Where is Jinnie?”

Jin was always in the kitchen before meals, helping the two youngest carry the trays to the backyard. You didn’t want to worry Jimin, he was very sensitive to how others were feeling. His emotional walls were so thin that your blues and grays bled into his yellow. “He’s in his room resting, he’s feeling a little under the weather today.”

“But…How didn’t we notice anything?” Jimin asked.

You patted his shoulder. “I didn’t either until we were cooking lunch. He just needs to rest and he will be better in no time.” Jimin gazed at the food like it could give him the answers he was looking for, you continued. “The duck is his recipe, he only went to his room after the food was ready.” You didn’t mention how he had collapsed while cutting the lettuce, a knife in his hand and way too many grievous possibilities.

Jungkook picked up the nicest plate, you had made it last and having used the previous six ones as practice it had come out looking the best. “Can I take it to him?” It was well-known that he had a soft spot for Jin, sneaking into his room the nights he was running away chased by guilt. Jin had been the only one he had let in then. But again, they all had a soft spot for each other, it may translate differently into actions but it was the same at the core.

You pulled out a smaller bowl from the cupboard. Let me put some salad in this first.” This was one of the only salads everyone liked, even Jimin who was firmly against eating most greens (Namjoon didn’t like them much either but at least he was trying). You filled a glass with water as well and placed it on the smaller tray Jungkook had prepared. “Don’t wake him up if he’s sleeping, he looked really tired.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Jungkook promised picking up the tray and leaving for Jin’s room.

Jimin went back to arranging the plates on the trays. “He’ll be alright soon, right?”

“Of course he will,” you reassured him. “In no time he will be shouting at Jungkook for eating his ingredients and having fights with any insects that find their way to the garden. Now, let’s take these down because having the food right in front of me and not eating it is killing me.”

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Jin had a terrible headache, that’s where everything had started. He had woken up and instantly wanted to roll to his other side and fall asleep again covering his head with the blanket. His eyes refused to stay open and everything around him was like he was in a fog. His body wasn’t his own, it was like watching someone else execute each move he commanded, like he had lost parts of his senses. Everything was duller.

Powering through, he got up and made his bed, throwing the blankets over it with less precision than usual and arranging his stuffed animals against the pillows. It was your day off because of the gala and he had to make breakfast for you and the other hybrids.

It was enough that he got a few more hours of sleep as a result of the lack of your morning schedule. He could deal with the world being a little blurry at the edges and his body not cooperating every few minutes.

He made an easy breakfast for the day, which was a little disappointing when you were able to sit and enjoy it for once, but he was physically unable to do anything more. Sitting down would help. After breakfast, he would lay down on the couch and he would be better in no time.

Breakfast came and went and in a few hours, he had to start making lunch. Your offer to help was a godsend with his feet feeling like jelly. He thought he had it under control, that he could get through lunch then go to his room and hide under the covers where no one could see him. Until his legs gave up on him.

The knife slipped out of his hand and he watched its slow descent to the cutting board. In a blink he was on his knees, he blinked again and you were next to him helping him up. Hybrids weren’t supposed to get sick, scientists had engineered their whole being down to the color of their hair and eyes, they could strengthen their immune system as well. His past owners used to say that it was in his head because he was living with humans, that if he got sick the center must have given them a problematic hybrid and that couldn’t be true. He had paid a lot for Jin.

The door opened just enough for you to poke your head in. “Jin?” you whispered, quiet enough to not wake him up if he had been sleeping but loud enough for his hearing to pick up while awake. He lowered the blankets from his face. “Hey, did you finish with your food?”

“Yeah, it’s…” He pointed to the tray on the nightstand, he didn’t have enough strength to take it to the desk. You didn’t comment on the food that was left on the plates.

“Are you feeling any better?” you asked. His head still hurt and the heaviness of his body didn’t subside, but it was much better than when he had been standing so he nodded. “Do you need anything else? I brought some medicine if you want, I read that it’s alright for hybrids to take.” Despite the pain and the weariness of his body, he smiled at you and your research. The way you cared about them was endearing. You pulled out a packet from your back pocket.

“I think I’ll take one.” The constant drumming behind his temples and the back of his head was getting too much. It was so bad it wouldn’t let him sleep.

“I’ll go get some water for you.” You left the packet on the nightstand and picked up the tray with the leftovers.

Jin rolled to his back staring at the ceiling. He didn’t get sick often and he hated how his body was betraying him. You returned with a glass filled with water in one hand and a jug in the other.

“There you go,” you said handing him the glass. You opened the medicine packet and pressed a white tablet out. It was light in his palm, almost as if it wasn’t there. He put it in his mouth and washed it down with water. “You’ll feel better in no time.” You stroked his hair and he had to hold himself back from purring. Being sick he craved affection more than ever before.

“Don’t come too close, you’ll get sick too.”

You didn’t pull back. “Then I’ll have a reason to stay at home. It doesn’t sound so bad.” You tugged at the blanket. “Fancy some company?” Jin scooted to the side, letting you slip in next to him. Something inside him rejoiced at having you in his nest with him. It was ridiculous, having the need to nest was ridiculous, but he couldn’t suppress it. You turned around to face him, your head on a light blue pillow you had picked up from the pile. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

In the absence of words, he nodded his head. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You weren’t wearing makeup today in anticipation of the heavy makeup you would have to wear for the gala. The shadows under your eyes, concealed any other day, were threatening to spill over the rest of your face. The late nights had been many in the past few days, making up for the breaks you were taking. More and more he came to realize that work was your life and you were like a fish escaping water pushing it back.

You didn’t speak, basking in the silent company of each other. Jin let his worries go and, thanks to the medicine, his headache got duller until he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t notice when he fell asleep, waking up to voices.

“…feeling better, the medicine must have kicked in. His temperature has gone back to normal too,” you whispered.

“Okay, that’s good. Our Jinnie is strong,” the other voice said and heat traveled up to the top of Jin’s ears. The voice was unmistakably Namjoon’s and it was so warm Jin wanted to wrap it around himself and never let go. “I think we woke him up.”

“Oh no,” you complained, still whispering. “Jin?”

He opened his eyes, abandoning the comfort of the familiar darkness. You leaning on your forearm peering at him. His heart was beating faster.

“We woke you up, didn’t we?” you asked, looking guilty.

“It’s alright.” He could hear how rough his voice was from sleep. “What time is it?”

“Five,” you said.

He had been sleeping for more than three hours.

Namjoon took a step forward from the door. “I brought you some tea and biscuits,” he said, placing the tray on the now-empty nightstand.

Jin sat up on the bed with his back against the headboard. “Thank you. Can you…?” You picked up the steaming mug and handed it to him, holding it carefully so he wouldn’t burn himself. The plate of biscuits was placed on his lap over the blankets. It was a warm day but the air-conditioning was on in Jin’s room, the weight of the blankets over him promised safety and he didn’t want to be sweating from the heat.

“I’ll be going then,” Namjoon said with a small smile, the two of you exchanging a look.

“Wait.” Namjoon stopped in his tracks. Jin blamed his impulsiveness on the part of him that was controlled by the sugar-glider’s nature. Namjoon shouldn’t be leaving. Namjoon was pack and he should be with him when he wasn’t well, he should be taking care of Jin. One followed the other and it didn’t listen to logic. But he was tired and although the headache was gone, his head was still hazy, so he gave in. “Can you stay?”

The soft smile on Namjoon’s face was enough to wipe away any of his lingering doubts. “Of course I can.” Jin pulled up the blankets inviting him in. Namjoon pulled him closer bringing his forehead to his. The mug shook in Jin’s hold, you covered his hand with yours steading it. Jin realized it wasn’t only his hands shaking as Namjoon scented him tenderly. He felt so weak between the two of you.

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The makeup artist asked you to close your eyes again to finish your eyeliner. Your makeup had to compliment your dress, like you were a model on the runway and your purpose was to sell the design. You had to admit that it looked beautiful so far, the gold eyeshadow and the dramatic eyeliner. She completed the look with a matte red lipstick while the hairstylist was releasing the last loose curl from the curling wand. You looked like someone out of a movie and tonight you would have to own that.

They helped you put on the dress like you were incapable of doing it on your own. In these cases, everything had to be perfect, including the most mundane of things. The jewelry was modest as not to take the attention away from the dress but enhance the look. A golden necklace with a ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds to decorate the skin the plunging neckline left bare, small diamond earrings, and golden bracelets.

Half an hour left before the gala and you were ready. The charm was arriving a little late so you had to wait before leaving. The stylists took their leave but you stayed at the fitting room/styling section of the closet, which was right under the actual master closet.

The dress fit you like a glove, bringing attention to all the right areas and burying any imperfections. It was the kind of Cinderella transformation the protagonists in older movies used to go through before getting the guy, but it happened all the time to you. A spy in an action movie, a confident heroine knowing how to use her looks, a girl going to a party to have fun and get drunk, that’s more along the lines of the characters you liked to imagine yourself as. You were far from being any of those characters but it was fun to daydream sometimes.

One last look in the mirror and you climbed up the spiral staircase to your closet, turning off the lights behind you. The designer you had met had been pleasant and your conversations hadn’t been awkward. If the rest of the guests, or at least the majority, were like him then the night could be fun.

The hybrids were all in the living room, even Hoseok and Yoongi. Yoongi wasn’t sitting far from them, in a separate sphere, but next to Jimin who was pointing at something in a book. They all looked at you when you came in, the back of the dress sweeping the floor behind you.

“How does it look?” you asked, doing a twirl. The response was delayed by a few moments.

Namjoon snapped out of it first, coming closer to you and taking your hand. “You look beautiful.” He leaned in for your neck before his face scrunched up in displeasure.

“What?” you asked.

He sniffed at the air. “You…”

“Oh, oh,” you said in realization. “It’s the perfume, it’s quite strong, isn’t it? It’s a Christmas gift from my mother, she said she really liked it so I thought I would wear it for her.”

Namjoon tamed his expression but the frown didn’t disappear. “It’s a little overwhelming. It overpowers everything else.” The perfume was too much for you too, it wasn’t surprising that it was too much for the keen noses of the hybrids. The perfume you wore day to day in spring was a lot lighter and you didn’t put on a lot. You had never stopped to think about how perfumes would affect the hybrids.

“I’ll be sure to not wear it again then,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“That isn’t what I meant.” Namjoon scratched the back of his neck. “You can wear it if you like it. It’s just a little much.”

“Well,” you looked at him and the other hybrids conspiratorially, “it isn’t my favorite, either, and if it affects you like that why would I keep wearing it?” Namjoon’s face smoothed out and you noticed Hoseok looking at you with amazement.

You opened the leather clutch and put in your phone and your keys. Your lipstick and powder were already inside along with a pack of tissues. It didn’t fit any more things.

“I’ll be going now. I’m fashionably late enough.” Before going, Jungkook and Jimin kissed you on each cheek careful not to ruin your makeup. Jin had fallen asleep again and none of you were willing to wake him up.

The night could become difficult so you ignored Yoongi’s eyes on you. You didn’t need any more people judging you.

A limousine was waiting for you outside, limousines were practically part of the dress code in these events. John wasn’t with you this time, you had given him the night off. These kinds of events starred in his nightmares, standing in the corner all night not saying a word. That’s how they kept up the illusion. Regardless of how many times you told him you didn’t care about it, he would follow what was expected of him.

The bright lights blinded you when you arrived. Everyone seemed to want to take a look at you. Your heels sunk into the red carpet at the entrance hall, large paintings in golden frames hanging from the walls. You were led up a grand staircase to the hall the gala was taking place. And so the night began…

You listened through speeches about fashion and the vision of the fashion industry and each individual designer. A few parts were quite interesting, but most of them failed to do anything more than repeat the same old ideas again and again. However, the champagne did make everything a little more tolerable. Your mother had been very happy to see you there and she had told you at least three times how beautiful you were. Your father smiled at you, a smile that looked way too political to be for his daughter, the same smile he would put on when greeting the president.

After the speeches were finished, your mother linked your elbows. It was time for the introductions. You put on your camera smile and shook more hands than you ever did at work. The compliments on your work were many, which ones were genuine was a mystery. But it did feel good when the daughter of one of your father’s associates told you how much she loved the finale of season 4 of Paper Hearts and asked you about Six of Crows.

You said goodbye to an older couple and your mother led you to the buffet. A sculpture of a man pinning fabrics on a mannequin stood proudly in the middle, surrounded by plates of food so perfect that it looked more fake than the decorative food pieces you used on set.

Your mother took another flute of champagne from a waiter. “Mr. Jones will be retiring soon but his son doesn’t want to take over the company. It causes a lot of family drama. I heard they only exchange a few words when they meet but Mr. Jones isn’t backing down.” You had no idea what company they had or who their son was but you nodded. “Ah, I wanted to ask you. You didn’t say anything about adopting hybrids.”

Your hand stilled before you could taste the hors d' oeuvres that looked like a sandwich but was too fancy to call it that. “Hybrids?” you repeated.

“I didn’t know you were interested in them,” your mother continued, unaware of how tense you had become. “Certainly not interested enough to adopt four. Are you making a collection?” She laughed at her joke but you only felt ill.

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” You took a bite of the food, trying to swallow it down. You had lost your appetite.

Your mother sipped on her champagne. “That would be a unique one, it could be showcased.” The churning in your stomach got worse. You left the piece that looked like a sandwich aside.

“How did you learn of it?”

“Don’t you read any magazines? It was front-page news.” You had expected that the information would be published sooner or later, you hadn’t been exactly hiding it, but sooner or later was in the future not now. “You should have told me, I would have looked for some high-quality places to buy them from. There are some very beautiful exotic pieces I have seen. Mrs. Anderson, do you remember her? She couldn’t make it this time but she was at the charity event last September.” You didn’t remember her but you nodded again. “She has such a cute chinchilla hybrid and he’s so well-trained too. I hope yours were trained well, I heard it’s difficult to train them yourself. Where did you adopt them from?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “An adoption center in Los Angeles,” you lied easily. Spending hours and hours every day with actors, instructing them about how each scene would seem more natural, you had picked up a few tricks. “I just really liked them and they were already a pack, I didn’t want to break them up.”

Your mother arched a single perfectly-drawn eyebrow, a skill you had sadly not inherited. “A pack? Does that actually exist? Dear, the center must have been trying to give you four hybrids instead of one. Pack,” she tried out the word and she didn’t particularly like the results. “That certainly sounds like some kind of con. What are they? Are all of them wolves?”

“No, they aren’t all wolves. And it was three hybrids, I adopted the other one later from Tennessee with Taylor.”

Taylor’s name brought a spark to your mother. “Oh, how is Taylor? Such a sweet girl, I should have invited her. I will next time.” Your mother had met Taylor exactly once during one of the few of your movie premieres she had actually attended. “Which one did you adopt from there?”

You gritted your teeth, debating how much information was wise to give your mother. “Jin, he’s a sugar glider hybrid.”

That seemed to please her. “Sugar glider? That sounds fancy. I would like to see him up close.” Like you would ever allow that to happen. “He must be a rare breed.”

“He is.”

“Of course, I should have expected that my daughter would decide on a rare breed,” she said as if she was congratulating herself. “I insist you bring him to the next event. I was never that interested in hybrids, too much work, but one would look good in photos.”

“Yeah, I guess he would.” You took a deep breath, it wasn’t the time to throw a tantrum like you were five years old again or puke all over your expensive dress and shoes.

The expression on your mother’s face grew somber. “But four hybrids are a lot, I don’t think I know anyone who owns that many.” She twirled the flute in her hand, waves of the golden liquor hitting the glass and bubbles rising to the surface. “After what happened with Jacob I understand you have been feeling lonely, but hybrids aren’t good substitutes for human company, dear. You can’t rely on them as you relied on him or another man.”

A waiter offered you a glass of champagne from a golden tray. You couldn’t drink too much and risk your tongue loosening but you could allow yourself one more glass to get through this. “I’m not trying to replace him. They aren’t some kind of rebound.”

By her pinched expression, she didn’t believe you. “It’s alright to look for company somewhere else when you feel lonely. I don’t want you to think I’m judging your choices, you are an adult and free to make your own decisions but I’m your mother and I’m worried. You and Jacob were together for so long, we were sure he was the one for you. He was so nice and he took care of you. Your father and I were so happy for you.”

“Not all good relationships last. People change, they grow apart.”

“That’s true. It’s difficult getting out of a relationship after being together for so many years and getting back to your feet. That’s why I understand. I understand that you don’t want to be alone right now but don’t put all of your energy into hybrids. It just isn’t the same. Whatever some people like to say, hybrids are hybrids. They are different from us, they are on a different level. You can’t have the same connection with someone you own.”

Her words continued ringing in your mind for the rest of the night. Your father soon called you to introduce you to one of his colleagues, a successful businessman and politician you had never heard of. The glass of champagne was replaced by another one. You promised yourself it was the last. The owner of a luxurious brand talked with your mother about his plan to expand to more countries and the rehearsed and repeated vision to connect the world through fashion.

You peered at the other guests, all mingling, talking, and laughing. A man only a few feet away from you slapped a girl’s ass. You couldn’t believe your eyes, stuff like that didn’t happen at an event like this. You expected a scene, shouting and screaming and everything in between. Nothing happened. The man that had his arm around her waist only laughed. That’s when you noticed the black fluffy ears on top of her head, they were the same color as her hair and easy to miss. She didn’t have a tail. A silver collar with blue stones the same shade as her dress was secured around her neck. Her shoulders were tense and her head lowered.

In any other situation, any other time, you would have done something. You would have walked up to them and said something, anything you could think of on the spot, even talked to her, made a few minutes more tolerable. You did none of those things. Your parents were there and you had avoided embarrassing them all your life.

The guilt was eating you up, wrapping around all your organs and squeezing, hissing, and calling for your attention, not letting you forget. You had done nothing. If someone had touched your hybrids like that you would have cut their hands off. But that hadn’t been your hybrid, it hadn’t been your place. It hadn’t been your place like it hadn’t been your place to adopt Jin and go against his owner, like it hadn’t been your place to get involved with Namjoon’s pack or Yoongi and Hoseok for that matter. Maybe you had been tricking yourself all along, hiding your selfishness and fear behind the pretense of “not my place”.

Your mother was wrong, you hadn’t been looking for company when you and Jacob broke up. On the contrary, you disregarded everything except work, distancing yourself from all of your friends. It was easy with how busy you were at the time. You would have continued hiding in the Castle and spent your break alone if you hadn’t asked John to stop the car that night. They were what you didn’t know you needed. You had to stop being alone first to realize how lonely you had been.

You couldn’t go back to living like that, waking up and returning to an empty house, having no warm meal and warmer hugs waiting for you. That’s what your life had been like for the longest time and you wondered how you used to live like that. The hybrids were so tangled up in your life you couldn’t find where each thread ended or started. They merged and divided, connecting you all in ways you couldn’t describe.

Taylor had asked you about any crushes when you had been in Virginia, everyone was expecting you to find a new boyfriend after six months or at least start dating but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. No one had piqued your interest and it wasn’t for lack of meeting new people. It would feel wrong going on a date with someone when the hybrids were waiting for you back home. And that’s where the problem was; it shouldn’t feel wrong. Many people who had hybrids went on dates, couples adopted hybrids together and it should be like that for you. But it wasn’t.

Overthinking was one of your talents and you had avoided like you were being chased by wild dogs. You weren’t one to simply go with the flow but Namjoon’s lips on your own had changed your mind. You were too afraid of losing that that you hadn’t allowed yourself to analyze what you were doing, what that meant for you. Namjoon was your hybrid, you may not act like it or think of him like that but you were his owner in the papers. And it wasn’t only Namjoon, the way you cared about the hybrids was different from the way you felt about anyone else. It was all-consuming and too bright. You felt more for them than you had ever felt about Jacob and that was dangerous.

You excused yourself from the event as soon as it was proper for you to do so. Tomorrow morning you had to wake up early for work and you couldn’t stay late into the night. It was true but not the reason you left. Your mother hugged you and thanked you for coming, inviting you once again to their house in New York. She had been inviting you every time you met and you hadn’t once been to their house.

The window of the limousine was cold against your cheek, your foundation staining the glass. Maybe your mother wasn’t that wrong. You didn’t dare put a name to your feelings but you couldn’t deny that they were there. Were you really that lonely that your mind was playing tricks on you? Groaning, you knocked your head against the glass, hard enough to hear a small thud. You shouldn’t be thinking of them like that, it was wrong, so wrong.

Was it the way the world viewed hybrids messing with you, bleeding into your subconscious? They were presented as the answer to any and all desires, transformed into wet dreams. The media had the power to influence behaviors and thoughts little by little without the person noticing. You had thought you were too clever to fall victim to their molded reality. You knocked your head against the glass again, the driver must have been thinking you were crazy.

The limousine parked in front of the Castle. On other nights the lights would have been turned off by now but tonight they were all shinning, welcoming you home. You fished your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. The lights were on in the living room in the lowest setting.

“Welcome.” You jumped, almost tumbling to the floor at being startled while taking off your heels.

“Every. Single. Time.” Namjoon laughed quietly. “How do you do this every single time?”

“I was already here, I couldn’t make any more noise.” He got up from the couch, extending a hand to you. You took it and he guided you to the couch. “Did you have a good time?”

The dress wrinkled as you pulled one foot under you but you couldn’t care less. “It was… bearable. I didn’t-” You let your head fall on the back of the couch. Seeing Namjoon up close after the night you had, looking at you with soft eyes like you held the sky in the palm of your hand, everything was coming back. What were you doing here? Your heart shouldn’t be racing like that when you were thinking about the wolf hybrid, your hands shouldn’t be itching to touch him.

“You’re here now, you can relax,” he said trailing his hand from your arm to your shoulder and up your neck. Goosebumps raised on your bare skin. “You’re home.” His breath tickled your face, his lips were so close and you wanted, you wanted… You pushed him back.

“I should go take off my makeup. I’m exhausted.”

Namjoon frowned but he didn’t question you. “Okay,” he said softly. “Your bed must be calling your name.”

“It is,” you said slipping away from him. The absence of his touch left a void inside you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You went to your room with a heavy heart, leaving Namjoon alone in the living room.

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You found the offending magazine in a store close to the studios. Copies of it filled a whole stand. The cover was a photo of you with Jin and Jimin in front of the waffle place the day you had taken them with you to the table-reading. It really was front-page news.

In A Stunning Display of Power And Wealth Y/N Y/L/N Adopts Four Hybrids

Straight to the point, every word chosen precisely to attract attention. A display of power and wealth. Of course, that’s what sold copies. That’s what people wanted to read; how one of the richest and most famous directors of your generation was showing off their wealth and power. Hybrids continued to be a sign of money. To adopt four hybrids meant you were crazy rich, but people already knew that when similar headlines had swept all tabloids just a year ago, brought on by the outrageous purchase of the Castle.

Four pages were dedicated to you and your hybrids, completed with more photos of the same day and quotes from “insider sources”. You closed the magazine and went to the counter. The cashier scanned it without glancing at your face, which saved you some trouble. You almost thought you would have to re-enact the comedic scene of the cashier looking at the magazine, then at you, then back at the magazine, then back at you like a robot that had stopped working. You shoved the magazine in your bag, self-conscious of anyone seeing it on you, and went back to the studios.

Filming would begin very soon, which meant you were swamped with work. Everything had to be perfect because that’s the kind of director you were. A perfectionist. If it also gave you an excuse not to think about the hybrids and all of the implications of the flutter of your heart when you were with them, you weren’t complaining. And if you were a little more distant, that could easily be attributed to your work too.

Sleepless nights became too common, your head was too loud and Jimin laying next to you only made it louder.

Filming started and your schedule changed. Most days you still woke up early and returned late at night, but because each scene required a specific time of the day there were nights you came back hours after midnight. You had promised the hybrids you would take them with you on set but every morning you got in the car alone.

Fourth day of filming and unexpected rain forced you to cancel the outside shooting. You only had outside filming that day. You rushed to make adjustments and switch to scenes that could be filmed inside the studios. The crew would need time to prepare everything for the filming so you had been left with the morning off.

You unlocked the door, hiding inside the house from the rain. It hadn’t rained like that in a long time. The heavens had opened up and the rain refused to stop coming down like it was determined to turn Los Angeles into a gigantic lake. Your shoes left puddles wherever you stepped, you would have to mop the floors later. You took them off and placed them by the door. They had suffered the most, the rest of yourself was relatively dry with the exception of the lower part of your pants.

No one was attacking you with hugs as you closed the umbrella someone from the staff had handed you, the hybrids mustn’t have heard you coming in. If they had heard you, you would have had an armful of Jimin and Jungkook by now.

“Oh, hey Yoongi,” you greeted the panther hybrid coming out of the kitchen. Your tactic with Yoongi was to act like you were talking to someone who didn’t strongly dislike you. The scowls and the sneers had decreased turning into a plastic sort of indifference and that’s what made you pause. His scowl could cut you like a knife. “Are you alright?”

Yoongi stalked past you. “What are doing back?” he asked harshly.

You were taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t spoken like that to you since before you had left for Virginia. “I have the morning off because of the rain. Did something happen here?”

“Why do you care?” Yoongi stood by the staircase, his black tail unmoving behind him.

“Why would I not care?” you shot back. The rain had already ruined your plans for the day and caused you enough stress to last you for a few more, you didn’t have enough energy to deal with Yoongi. “Seriously, what happened? Is Hoseok alright?”

A low growl vibrated through the room, you almost took a step back at the threatening sound. “Don’t you speak his name. Was caring for him another way to make you feel powerful? Is this some kind of sick way for you to gain power over someone?”

You were too tired to handle this delicately as you should, you recognized that and proceeded to ignore it. “What the hell is this about? I just came back from work.”

Yoongi scoffed, it was an ugly sound. “Because you have brainwashed everyone else, don’t think I don’t see you for who you are. Have you sold our story yet? About how you saved Hoseok and nursed him back to health? I am sure that will sell many magazines. Show them all how all-powerful you are.”

Through the haze of the day, the words started to click. “You found the magazine.”

“You didn’t try to hide it.” You couldn’t remember where you had left it, it had probably ended up in the stack of magazines under the living room table. “I knew no one would take four hybrids in out of the goodness of their hearts. Did it work? Was it worth it or are you already getting bored? Maybe you should adopt a couple more. Make more headlines.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you gritted out.

“That’s what you’d like to think,” Yoongi sneered. “All of you are the same. Hiding in your mansions and looking for the next chance to brandish your name. It’s a constant chase of power and standing, isn’t it? And you’ll use anyone you’ll find in your way to climb higher. I know how it is. You can’t fool me. I’ve been dealing with people like you for years!”

Your pants and your wet socks were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Your head was buzzing. It hurt because that’s everything you had been trying to avoid. Everything you had promised yourself not to become. Everything you had criticized your parents and their circle for. You weren’t like them. You had never been like them.

“You don’t know me, don’t pretend you do,” you said forcefully. “Do you really think that’s how magazines work? I just call them and tell them I want them to write about me? Put me on the front cover? That’s not it. Even if it was, why would I do that? I couldn’t care less about the power-plays you’re talking about. I’m a director and my work speaks for itself. I don’t need magazines to brandish my name because my movies and my shows are more than enough. The paparazzi saw the chance and they took it. Their goal is to sell and their headlines showcase exactly that; what people would buy. I never hid the fact that I adopted hybrids but I wasn’t flaunting it to the media either.”

“Why should I believe you?” Yoongi growled.

You sighed, a sound full of frustration. “Frankly, I don’t see what else I could do to make you believe me! I tended to Hoseok. I didn’t ask any questions. I tried hard not to cross any boundaries and to make you feel welcome. What more do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi said simply. “Nothing you do can change my mind.”

It was like a stone dropped in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have expected anything else. Yoongi had been through a lot, that much was clear, but it was unfair that he was taking out everything on you. You were paying for the scars other humans had inflicted on him.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“It’s pretty clear,” you muttered. “Alright, I can’t change your mind, I won’t even try. I know how to pick my battles. But if you really despise me so much then why bother? Nothing you say will change anything. Are you trying to uncover some hidden truth about me and how evil I am? Then what?”

The fur on Yoongi’s tail and ears stood on end. “I don’t care. I don’t care about you, about what you have done and what you will do as long as we’re gone from here. I don’t care for your charity or your pity. Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted to be here in the first place?”

You swallowed, willing your heart rate to calm down. “Then tell Hoseok and Jimin yourself. The keys are by the door.”

You didn’t wait for Yoongi to say anything else, turning around and locking yourself in your room. You laid down on your bed, your hands gripping your hair. The exhaustion this time was beyond physical, beyond mental. Your hands retreated from your hair, sliding down your cheeks. Your fingers were wet.

Later when Jimin and Jungkook knocked on the door, you had to open the door or risk worrying them. They jumped on the bed and snuggled close to you. You held your phone waiting for the call to go to the studios.

You didn’t face any new problems with filming. The actors were all incredible, seemingly one with their characters. You did a lot of filming at 300 Fox Way, the psychic’s house with its mystic aura and weirdly compelling assortment of objects. You instructed the actors, talked with the crew, and analyzed the script down to each comma. Focusing on anything other than Yoongi’s words and your hybrids had turned into an art form.

The sleepless nights didn’t cease, you and the moonlight had become good friends. Jimin’s visits to your room thinned out. He had noticed you pulling away. You didn’t hug him anymore or kissed his forehead before falling asleep, you couldn’t come to terms with doing that after everything that had happened. You had thought that maybe you would sleep better alone but that had been proved false soon after.

You got out of bed for the fourth night in a row. Every position was uncomfortable. Keeping your steps light you left the room. The large house was eerie at night, the living room area with its glass walls looked endless, combining the actual living room, the dining room, and what the real estate agents had called the family room that was really just another living room.

You couldn’t stay in your room on nights like these, it was too contained. The night air on your skin sent shivers down your frame as you walked out on the balcony. It was two days before the full moon and its glow illuminated the world.

What had you gotten yourself into? You wished you could go back to that morning and decline your mother’s invitation to the gala. Maybe, just maybe, then you would be able to sleep, your head wouldn’t be fighting you at every turn, at every chance.

Little pieces of moonlight shimmered and danced on the lake. The calmness of the world was a stark contrast to the mess in your head. You remembered how Jungkook had looked at the lake in awe that very first night, you had noticed then that he looked at Jimin the same way. You wondered how you looked at them and if anyone had noticed.

The moon had no answers for you.

Two golden eyes were looking up at you from the garden, they shone like the fires that had been extinguished earlier. Namjoon tilted his head, inviting you down. A weird sense of deja vu took over. You had lived something very similar before, a night that had changed so much.

You shouldn’t go. You should stay where you were, alone and safe, away from fluttering heartbeats and dangerous warmth. But the night had its way of calling out the risky nature of people. The thrill was so much more enticing when darkness ruled.

Climbing down the stairs, you kept your steps quiet. You never knew which sound would wake up the hybrids. Namjoon was standing by the flower bushes close to the curtain of vines that lead into the forest. He was wearing a dark blue pair of pajama pants and a simple black T-shirt.

“What are you doing awake so late?” you whispered, like everything around you had ears.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You shook your head. “I have trouble sleeping, remember?”

Namjoon had caught you a few times wandering the house at night, he was the only one who knew that a lot of nights sleep didn’t come to you willingly. His own nightly adventures were more complicated.

“Why are you awake?” you asked him again. “Please don’t tell me you smelled distress or something again or I’ll freak.”

Namjoon chuckled, you had missed it. Keeping your distance meant you only saw them for barely two hours every day. They all tried to not make too much noise with you in the constant mood of ‘tired and gloomy’.

“No, that’s not it.” He looked up, over the trees. “It’s the full moon.”

“You have to be kidding me. Do you turn into a wolf too?”

Namjoon raised his hands in surrender, his dimples on full display. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I couldn’t sleep either and I like being outside at night like this. It’s peaceful.”

You couldn’t disagree with that. There was something alluring about the quiet of the night. You would describe yourself more as a morning person than a night owl but both of them were true, waking up early for work then staying up late for it too.

“Are you alright?” The smile had fallen from his lips.

You squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Filming takes a lot out of me.”

Namjoon sighed. “Are you sure that’s all there is? You have been acting differently, did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

You knew they would notice but you had hoped they would think it was because of your work. Work did take a lot out of you but it also used to be the reason you were so much happier returning home.

“It has been going on for too long. You don’t spend any time outside your room or your office if it isn’t to eat. You are avoiding us. Jimin and Jungkook stopped scenting you because they think they’re making you uncomfortable.”

“It isn’t- They aren’t making me uncomfortable. I’m just tired from work and I don’t-” you tried to deny it but you fell short of excuses.

“You were working before too, but it wasn’t like this,” he pointed out. “You were tired then too. Some nights you came back and I could smell the exhaustion around you like a disease. But you smiled when Jimin and Jungkook ran up to you and didn’t let you go, you laughed at Jin laughing at his own jokes. You came to me when it got too loud here.” He pointed to your head.

“We weren’t filming then.” It was a weak attempt but you had to make it.

Namjoon regarded you carefully. Beams of moonlight got tangled in his gray hair turning it silver. He looked at home right there at that moment, close to the trees with the moon shining on him. He was every bit of magic you had ever witnessed.

“This started before filming did. I knew there was something wrong when you came back from the gala. Something happened there,” Namjoon concluded. “I should have come with you.”

You shook your head vigorously. Imagining him next to you while your mother spoke about hybrids like that was torture. “No, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have been with me.” You paused to compose yourself. “It wasn’t good, it was really bad actually. It wasn’t the gala itself, there some interesting people and… My mother…” You took a deep breath. “I don’t think I like my parents very much,” you admitted.

It was hard to say after years of half-hearted attempts at mending your relationship with them. All those years apart you had become very different people. You had trouble remembering what they were like before they left you in your aunt’s care. You couldn’t see any traces of them in yourself, you didn’t enjoy what they enjoyed, your interests and priorities, the way you viewed the world were very different.

In the past few days, you had grown to hate your mother’s voice in your head but you had a feeling that it had been much longer than that. The only difference was that before, you had been able to ignore it.

Namjoon came closer, his hand touching your palm waiting for you to make the first move. You took his hand in yours, laying your head on his chest. “That’s alright. You don’t have to like them, no one is forcing you to.”

“But they are my parents.”

He stroked your back gently. “It doesn’t matter, that isn’t enough of a reason.”

“They aren’t bad people.”

“They don’t need to be bad people for you to dislike them.”

You stayed like that for a few moments, taking in his presence. You had missed being in his arms so much, like an ache that couldn’t go away.

He stopped stroking your back, cupping your cheek and pulling back so you were facing each other. “I’m always here for you. I don’t care about anything else but seeing you happy. I’m here.”

“I missed you,” you admitted like it was a secret.

Namjoon smiled softly. “I missed you too.” His thumb caressed your lower lip. There was a tingling sensation all over your skin. “Can I?” he asked just like the very first time.

You let out a shuddering breath. “Should we be doing this?”

“Do you want to?” he asked carefully.

You bit your lip before nodding. He leaned down connecting your lips. It was soft and careful, all the longing and hurt of the past days poured into the kiss. You pulled him closer and he came willingly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

An awful laugh cut through the night. You pulled away from Namjoon like you had been burnt. Yoongi was one with the night, dark like a shadow.

“So this is it? Is this why you adopted them all? So you can have your pick when you’re in the mood?” The expression on his face was cruel, twisted up in disgust.

Namjoon growled, his sharp canines shinning in the moonlight. In that moment, Namjoon looked more dangerous than ever before. “Shut your mouth.”

“I see she has turned you into her dog. How long did it take to tame you?”

You held Namjoon back before he could lunge at the panther. You were afraid that if you let him go, there would blood on their clothes. “Don’t.”

Yoongi took a tense step forward. “That’s right, listen to your owner. Is that what she has turned all of you into? Her toys? Just for a roof over your head and food?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Namjoon growled. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi clenched his fists. There was anger and something else you couldn’t see in the night amidst your panic. “I knew it. I knew no one did what you did without any kind of agenda. Seems like the magazine was right, at least in part. You can’t fool me, even if you managed to fool everyone else.”

With that he was gone, like he was never there.

You couldn’t breathe. Your hand was still wrapped around Namjoon’s wrist and you couldn’t breathe. You counted in your head. One, two, three…

When Namjoon tried to touch your shoulder, you pulled away. “I’m going back to my room,” you said. Your voice sounded shaky to your own ears. Namjoon called out to you but you didn’t stop. He didn’t try to touch you again.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

#btscreatorscorner #castlebangtan #bts #bts hybrid au #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #taehyung x reader #poly!bts #poly!bts x reader #bts poly au #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Text

coax the cold | reader x chan

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan

Genre: smut, lil bit of fluff

Tags: softsub!chan, softdom!reader, virgin!chan, shyyyy!chan, lowkey awkward chan hehe, tinder hookup au, college au (very US college haha--or at least how I know it), guided sex, cowgirl, reader has nipple piercings sooo nipple play (my new kink) , hair pulling, use of petnames, praising, protected sex, fingering (f), someone’s impatient ;)

Word count: 4.2k

Recommended listening: bite by troye sivan

*photocreds to OP!

[02:05]

you are messaging: chan

me: i’m here by the bike locks? is this the right place? i don’t see a door anywhere?

Buzzing above your head, a streetlight flickered from the erratic flying of moths to the addictive yellow glow. You were never really a squeamish person, but when it came to moths, there was only so much that you could take in the uncomfortable silence of the parking lot.

A group of girls with their cropped shorts and bralettes came barreling out from a pair of doors farther down the building with music screeching from the phone speakers shoved in their tiny pockets.

“You’ve got the addy right? You didn’t hear anything about it getting shut down? Becs was telling me that they were doing ratios so it looks like we can’t bring the guys--”

You tapped on your phone screen to see if you had received a reply or if the little flame icon would flash while you watched the minutes tick by.

You had a little shame about the position that you were in, and you started to care less and less after seeing this guy’s pictures. He was somewhat illusive from what you could tell. The way that he texted in all lowercase made him seem approachable but he still wasn’t one ask for pictures of your tits or send the odd drunk text asking for you to come over.

You had send the message at this hour. It was likely that you were impatient from “playing the game” but he seemed intriguing enough.

The Friday night was filled with energy from the other side of the street across from the apartment complex. His place was situated right on the edge of campus next to a couple run down houses with windows lit by multicolored string lights and creaking doors which let out vibrating trap songs every time someone opened them. You had left a house similar to that before coming here right when it was getting boring and the boys were getting a bit handsier than you would’ve liked. You were done making out with randoms in hallways who tasted like watery beer and bad decisions.

“Um, hey! Are you y/n?” The stranger’s voice called from a fire escape door.

He was dressed simply, sort of like someone who didn’t care, or someone who hadn’t left their room since the morning. In this lighting, his hair seemed to be some kind of dark burgundy brown which was a bit different from his caramel blonde hair from the photos. You would’ve felt lied to on another occasion, but the simple trait wasn’t a game changer.

“Uh-yeah, that's me.” You smiled bluntly, not really sure even what to say in a situation like this.

Up close you saw what the pictures really didn’t give him justice: a faint press of dimples and stretching veins on his hands. You assumed that he was a bit smaller under the giant black hoodie that he wore, but he had that same kind of coziness that was just a little too dangerous for a hookup.

“I live on the third floor.” He informed you while leading up the hollow sounding cement staircase.

“Mm. Okay.”

The stranger turned his head briefly to smile back at you, “I-Its nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.” You nodded, even though he didn’t see.

This young man’s room was nearly exactly as you had pictured it to be element by element. Like every other boy his age, he had a gaming set up with color changing LEDs on the side of his machine and a smaller TV that was hooked up to some console you didn’t care to know the name of. The floors were nearly clean and the bed made--almost like he had planned for it to be that way; you could see the dirty clothes peeping from under his bed.

The banged up beige walls were decorated with posters of indie bands that you had heard of once or twice. He had somewhat of an organized open closet that held types of CDs and vinyl too--the room itself smelled a bit dusty like the protective covers of those albums that you associated with a record store.

“You can...we can sit down if you’d like.” He rather awkwardly gestured to his full sized bed. You prayed that once you pulled the covers back later there would be no white stains.

“Okay.”

“I could-um, turn on some music maybe? If you would like?”

“Sure!” You piped trying to sound as confident and in control as possible--it was clear he wasn’t.

He fidgeted with his phone and a bluetooth speaker which startled him when he turned it on. Just like the posters on his walls, he picked some soft sounding acoustic song with a crooning folk singer that sounded like he was singing with the exclusive use of his head voice.

The stranger sat next to you clasping his hands in front of him and eyes glued to the floor.

“Sorry...this is my first time doing this.”

“Doing...?”

He smoothed back his dark locks, “You know...meeting up with someone like this after meeting through an app. Um...what do you study?”

“Biochem with a graphic design minor. You?”

You weren’t sure if this was a hook up or an interview.

“Poli Sci Human Rights stuff and sound engineering on the side.”

“Huh...thats...cool.”

Both of you nodded your heads in the silence to which he cleared his throat loudly to feel the space.

“C-can I get you anything? You thirsty or something? I can steal some of my roommate’s Smirnoff Ice--”

“--No. I’m fine. Thank you though.”

He smiled sweetly to hid the fact that he was rubbing his sweating hands against his pants.

“But...how this usually starts off, you could lay down and maybe, I could get on top?”

“Oh!” He squeaked, “Sure! I can do that.”

The bed groaned out with the shuffling of bodies and your hookup sighed out with a shaky breath and squirming legs. “Like this?”

Rather than saying more, you crawled carefully over to him to the tune of his quickening chest and widened eyes. The shier he got, the harder it was for you to keep it in--he was ridiculously cute and your mind could only run wilder thinking about how he would react to everything you were about to show him. Your hands crept to the hem of his hoodie where you teased cold thumbs to his torso.

“I’m gonna take this off you, okay?”

Chan nodded eagerly with hair fluffing once you pulled it over his head.

“Take mine off?” You hushed into his ear to which he smacked dry lips to obey you.

He took his time pulling it off you; he savored the way that your bare body looked in front of him with glossy eyes that shone with the soft pastel glow from his computer in the opposite corner of his room. His chest heaved with his excitement which only held even more shallow breaths once your top hit the floor.

“I-I can touch you?”

“You can touch me anywhere you want to, baby.” You followed his head back to the pillow where you parted his quivering lips with your own. You could feel his shock get caught in his throat, then snake out hotly from his mouth to yours. He kissed you carefully, but growing in greed once you ran the tip of your tongue over his bottom lip. His curious hands wrapped around your back where he rubbed lightly at your sides, then traversed to your chest. You sunk deeper onto him to the tune of the music skipping to the next song which sounded nearly like a chilled out pairing of twangy guitars. As far as you could tell, it sounded something like Grateful Dead.

As your hips melded into his, Chan’s whole body jerked feeling the sudden contact of your pussy grind against him. As you had expected, he had hardened instantly, and his length bobbed and tented the thick fabric of his sweats. You kissed him deeper, exploring the corners of his mouth and the inside of his lower lip while tugged at the plush skin gently.

You should have guessed, but this boy didn’t have a clue how to take a bra off, so you did the job for him, sure to give him a display at the same time just for the dramatic effect of your surprise.

“H-holy shit.” Chan oggled your breasts from below. You were certain that he didn’t notice the way that he slicked his tongue slowly over his lip at the sight of you.

“You can touch them too.” You purred back into his ear, and he eagerly brought thrilled hands to your nipples.

“They’re really...um, pretty.” He said with fluttering eyes from your breasts to your eyes. What a gentleman he was being.

You toyed with your delightfully hardened bud in your hand while he played with the other. You pulled lightly at the sliver stud piercing there to show him that he could do the same and wetted your fingertips with your tongue to bring the wet to your skin. He kneaded at your breast firmly at first, cupping it in his hand, then moved his attention to your sensitive skin aroused just from the softest touches.

Your tiny moans was all the validation that he needed to squeeze harder and pull rougher. It was as if you could see his cute pent up fantasies unfolding right before you in his sparkling brown eyes.

“Mm, that feels so good.” You coaxed him further, going to grind you ass harder into his own lap and indulging in the way that even in your shorts, your folds could part around the thick imprint of his dick.

You collapsed over his face to align your nipples nearest his tongue which he gave no more thought. Chan kissed at them with trailing breathy moans of his own that melted into you and vibrated against the metal made one with your hardened buds. He sucked too with a flicking tongue that sent heat straight down to your clit. Each time his flattened tongue would return with the wet of his spit, you felt weaker and weaker for this boy becoming more tantalizing by the second.

“Want to--want to take off even more?” The phrase barely escaped your lips.

“Mmhm.” He agreed, then took to shimming off his pants quickly and watching you do the same, revealing your sky blue panties that always soaked in the way that you liked them to.

Your show continued on, and you took two of our fingers to rub over your clit while facing him. He too had wetted a spot into his boxers that adorably bunched around the upper parts of his thighs. With your free hand, you slithered to his erection and traced the outline, leaving him on a teasing squeeze.

“B-before we do anything else...I have to tell you something?” The young man hesitated, causing you to draw your hand back.

“What is it?”

“This is like my, first time, first time. You know?”

“You’ve never--”

“--I know. It’s...kinda embarassing...and the fact that it’s happening this way...”

“You don’t want it to happen this way?”

Chan stammered, but shook his head vehemently, “That's not it. I just don’t want you to be dissapointed...since I don’t really...know what I’m doing too well.”

He cracked with a hopeful smile, and you couldn’t stand it any more.

“Babyboy, you’ve got nothing to worry about, I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” You scooched next to him to twist a couple of his deeply cherry red strands into your fingers, “In fact, the fact that you haven’t done this before...really turns me on. Got it?”

Chan gulped, “S-so...what-what can I do for you? I’ll do anything?”

You pressed a light kiss into his forehead with a hand trailing up his thigh and back to his dick which still throbbed with his excitement.

“How about, you show me how you jerk off this cock of yours, angel? And I can show you how I do the same? For starters?”

He licked his lips once more, hooking his hands under his waistband and freeing his cock pink, and even thicker than you had imagined. You slid yourself unto his arm to cuddle up close to him, one of your legs swung over his so he could see exactly how you played with your clit.

He wrapped his hand around his dick with a tug which elicited a tiny “ah!” from his mouth.

“That’s it...jerk your cute cock for me...just like that.”

His eyes devoured the circles made by your hand between your legs--you strung together your slick between your fingers to him to see. The clear stringy cum shone on your fingers, making the other boy whimper out seeing how it coated them.

“I want to touch you too...down there, so bad.” He pleaded after pumping faster at himself.

“Oh? Pretty boy would like to feel what it’s like to touch my dripping cunt, hm? You know that watching you makes me like this...?”

Chan gasped out at the thought, letting out an “mmhm.” that cracked in his throat.

“C-can I?”

The heat of your naked bodies intermingled and turned the air of his small room dense, and each of your senses became hyper aware in your own arousal: every hair that stood on end, every flinch of his muscles beside you, you could feel it all.

“Of course you can.”

Chan shifted, leaving his dripping cock to pulse on your thigh where he flipped on his side to dip his hand between your folds and against your swollen clit.

“Rub in circles baby, or whatever feels right to you...you’ll know if it feels good for me.”

He nodded with hands trickling down to your pussy heated between your legs.

There’s something different about him, it could be the fact that you know next to nothing about him, or how he makes you bothered.

Slowly, his fingers dip between your folds slicked from your teasing--and the way that there mere sight of him teases you. Your back arches from the press of his fingers, and your bud throbs under each and every swipe of his fingers.

“Feels good?” He whispers into your ear, tickling it.

“Mm-yes.” With your free hand, you tangle your fingers into his hair to pull right at the roots. You bite a kiss into his lip while drawing him closer to you. His lips are plush and quivering like they can’t decide what to do with all the simulation at once.

“Harder...you can press harder,” The words were airy on your tongue while your hips writhed.

“Like this?” He circled harder, wider with his digits mixing with your cum.

The room appeared to blur in your euphoria. Coupled with the gentle music playing there was a kind of peace to this boy and everything about his little space. The further he continued, the more you longed for him fully--to feel every inch of his length inside of you as you fucked him for the first time.

Your hand grabbed at his hair even tighter: a symbol that he took as a good sign. He laughed out a little at your response.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He coos. Against your thigh, his dick bobs with a flared tip, begging for more attention.

You moan out for him as you dig your heels into his bed, and watch the way that your nipples harden around the metal piercings just from his touch.

“Just you wait baby, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” Your kisses pull at his lower lip as you fill his mouth with more moans. “You don’t even know how fucking tight it is, how it feels when I pull you inside of me and how the friction feels when you’ll fuck me.”

Chan shivers from your words with a gulp and lets his fingers fall down to your entrance where is curiosity gets the best of him. You wince feeling his fingers fill your pussy with the wonderful way that you desperately close around his digits.

“Shit.”

“Are you ready?” You ask him permission before trailing a hand down his torso.

“--Yes,” He nods quickly, “Please. God--I want to feel it. Show me.”

You twitch from the lack of contact to your pussy when you swing your leg to straddle him. Your hips meet his, and he struggles for a moment over where to put his hands. In one motion you grind your dripping folds over his bare dick, slicking him up and down with the light grind of your hips. A broken gasp escapes from his lips which you catch with your own mouth in a kiss. His closed eyes flutter from the feeling of having you so close...but not completely yet.

“Got a condom, angel?” You caress down his cheek and let your thumb linger over his bottom lip.

Chan gives you a grunt in response before contorting his body to the side table where he fumbles for the plastic wrapper. His curtains dance a little with a breeze caught in them, likely from the window being open. The air smells a bit like water, and it’s cool and crisp in your lungs. It cools the surging heat that your body succumbs to.

You move for him to roll the condom on, tracing the muscles of his chest. His skin is untouched, unmarked, and suddenly all you crave is to see him bruised and scraped in pink. You dig your nails into his chest seeing the way he jerks at himself just a bit more while looking up at you in awe.

“H-how do we do this?” He asks.

“Just...do as I say...’kay?”

Your date nods, letting you take complete control over his body. You start at his neck with kisses that turn heavier and heavier then darker and darker. He busies his hands by cupping into your breasts and tweaking with the hardened buds.

“Just lay still, I can put in the work pup, okay?” You reach for his erection further down his body, and he finds handles in your hips and ass.

“I can do that.” He sighs out with a little groan feeling your hand squeeze at him.

At first, you tease your entrance with his head, barely letting him feel anything besides your clit against his pink tip. His skin grows dewy in his anticipation, and he licks at his lips which dry from each breathy exhale he uses to steady himself. You take your cum to wet at his dick with your hand, and push harder at his sides with your thighs.

“Tell me if you ever want me to stop, got it?”

Chan hastily nods, digging deeper into your sides.

“Fuck, just--fuck me already...I can’t...it’s really...hurts to wait--”

“Getting demanding now are you?” You tap a light slap to his face. “You’re doing what I say, not the other way around.”

“S-sorry...” He whines.

You resume, sitting properly on his length: all the way down, all the way to your cervix which screams in ecstasy from feeling him fill you so deeply.

“Fuck.” He groans, but his curse is intertwined with a beautiful giddy smile. “Its really tight. Oh god--”

You lean over him to attach your lips with his once more--a tiny distraction from the way that you start to roll your hips over his length. Chan freely lets his moans tickle your lips, each of them more gruff than the last as he looses himself in you and your rhythm. He’s dizzied: lightheaded--even you can tell. The new sensation takes him over, and he’s left a mess for you: hips trembling while you work your pussy up and down his length and his fingers claw into your shoulder blades.

Chan’s Adam’s apple bounces as he gulps dry, forming praises the best that he can. “Feels...amazing...”

You sit back, allowing his full length to tease your g-spot as you fuck him rougher, indulging yourself to all the pleasure that he can give you when you let him in as deeply as possible. He notices the change, and supports your body up with hands running up and down your chest, and down your arms where he pulls at the skin with his short nails.

“You like this?” You gasp between each roll of your hips. “How my cunt feels on your cock? How I can use you like this? Use your words Channie.”

“Yes. Fuck yes. Yo-You look...mm--”

You giggle a little at the light pink blush to his cheeks and the way that he stumbles over his words.

“Think you can last a little longer, baby?” Your fingers creep to his throat where you tease at squeezing his neck.

He pauses, loosing himself in it again before giving you a rushed answer: “I think? It’s just...really intense I think that I’m c-close already.”

You permit him only a couple more seconds of you, then glide off him carefully to which he whines out in confusion.

“Your turn to fuck me now. Come on, behind me.”

Chan looks bewildered and breathless, but he does as he’s told and tosses aside stray pieces of clothing on the bed to get to you. You hoist up your hips for him after burying your face into the mattress. To guide him further, you fuck your fingers for him too at this angle, only stopping once you feel the pressure of his cock once more. He slides himself in agonizingly slow until he bottom’s out with a choked moan.

“Fuck me baby boy. You know what do to.”

Your date’s hand finds your hips once more which he firmly grasps, then begins screwing into your pussy already blazing with heat and your orgasm building from before. He finds his pace after a while and fills the room with the fleshy sound of skin on skin. Your own fingers find their own way back to your clit where you rub in tandem with his thrusts.

“Oh,” He gasps quietly.

Your nails bury into the comforter of the bed, and your teeth clench harder as he milks himself into you and grows in pace.

“Fuck yes baby, fuck me just like that. You’re doing so good; fucking my pussy just like you should...”

Your orgasm quickens hearing the praises come from the bottom of your heart and the way that he grunts out hearing them. For someone who’s never done this before, it’s unbelievable how good he is at it all.

He shudders, and you feel yourself tighten around him further, sensing both of your release coming near. Your hookup doubles over your back, burning you with the heat from his body as he fucks into you with reckless thrusts.

“Shit, I’m so, so close.” He admits though clenched teeth.

“Me too baby, finish me off, cum inside until you’re throbbing and you can’t take any-anymore.”

A switches flips within this once innocent man, and you feel the bed creak as he kneels on one leg, then lifts one to stamp upon the bed to better his angle. The new position directly sends your g-spot into flames, and you shake from limb to limb feeling your orgasm right on the brink.

He growls upon his release, finishing it off with shallow breaths once he nearly collapses over your back to feel each drop of his cum release inside of your pussy. You rub your orgasm out until you see lightning behind your eyelids and it’s heightened by the way that he twitches with his cum against your deepest spot.

“A-are you okay?” Your adorable date immediately asks once you gasp and writhe under him.

“I’m fine, I’m fine...fuck,” You laugh out, “That felt unreal Channie.”

He shakes once his softening dick leaves your hole, and you get a good look at this stranger: chest flushed and hair messed over his forehead. He falls down to his side on the bed still breathless and letting out happy little laughs.

“I’m sorry if that was like, really fast. It just all felt...so good, and, I couldn’t really control it--”

“Mm, don’t you worry.” You sweep down to kiss his gasping mouth. Silently, you thank whoever it was in the universe that let you meet this boy on this night, and whoever willed you to leave that party.

“What do we do now?” Chan asks, still bare for you to take in wholly. You wanted to tell him, but couldn’t find the words. He was kind of beautiful.

“Whatever we want. I could go, or I could stay. Really anything goes.”

His chest is peppered with your purple love bites, and you wish then to give him even more if you have the chance--whenever that might be.

Chan tilts his head, “Stay?”

“Well, we still need to get to know eachother don’t we?”

The handsome stranger grins, and lets his hand trace the side of your face. The cool of the room feels addictive against you, and it weaves around your neck and against the little hairs of your arms.

“You’re right.” He nods, “There's only so much you can tell about a person from these kind of dating apps.”

“That’s true.” Your hand discovers his collarbones, which you trace lightly. “It’s nothing like the real thing.”

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

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tigerdrop · 3 years ago

Text

so. this is my attempt at posting a 20k-word-long g/t frenrey RP that kogo and i were doing at the start of this year. its not finished and im not sure when were gonna pick it back up, since we are currently working on co-op game theory instead of a filthy RP that takes place like 100k words down the line of co-op game theory. but ive been sitting on it long enough so here u go

i never really planned on posting this anywhere so its really self-indulgent and not as polished as our usual stuff but look. this is a ludicrous amount of erotica im dropping here. cut me a lil slack

anyway, here it is: Gordon Gets A Xen Bath

Gordon tries to keep moving, but eventually his pace slows to a stop, his legs growing heavier and heavier until he can't bring himself to lift them.

"Okay. Okay," he pants, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees. "I can't fucking do this anymore, man! I'm tapped out! We've been walking all day - or, well, I have, I don't know about you. We can't... can't all be alien god fuckers, floating around or whatever." He pauses to catch his breath. Every muscle in his body aches from the strain of hopping around Xen in the HEV suit. Sure, gravity doesn't have quite as strong a hold here as it did back on Earth, and that makes all that metal easier to lug around, but it seems like time doesn't work the same way, either. Gordon can't tell how long it's been. Feels like days.

Smells like it, too, now that he's got a moment to breathe. He's covered in dirt and slime and congealed alien blood and God know what else. In short, he needs a fucking break. And Gordon aggressively takes one right then and there, dropping to his feet. What's the rush, anyway? "Like we're ever gonna find out way out of this fucking place," he mutters.

> Benrey watches as Gordon collapses, a pile of metal and smells. Odors. Sweat and dirt and tangled hair. His head tilts to the side but his expression remains flat as he lifts his head and gazes out into the vastness of Xen, before turning back to Gordon and furrowing his brow. They hadn't even gotten far, not really, so it doesn't really make sense that he'd just crumple like this.

> He sniffs, shuffling in a circle on his feet as Gordon bitches behind him--something about never escaping Xen, as if Benrey hadn't traveled from one end to the other to find him in the first place--and chews his lip in deep concentration, trying to think of literally anything that would maybe make the guy stop. Stop with the, uh, whining and whinging and "blah blah, we're not all alien god fuckers" or whatever.

> (Though, well, technically, Gordon was an alien god fucker anymore. Their time back with the space maggots and the gun bugs and that skinny doppelganger had seen them in a couple of situations where Gordon happily fucked an "alien god.")

> But. Wait. No. Mind wandering. Wandering to fun places, places more fun than being lost in Xen (though he's not lost; they'll find their way out eventually), but not anywhere useful. And, for once, he has to think along those boring terms. Being, you know, reliable or whatever.

> What matters is making Gordon go. The hamster wheel in his head turns and turns until the rodent is slung clear off and, with a slow blink, Benrey accepts defeat. Ideas are not his forte when he's actually trying to be helpful. He turns to his human, he tilts his head in the other direction, and he waits for his human to look up at him. Then, he speaks without even waiting for eye contact.

> "So, uh... what can best friend Benrey do to... make you. I dunno. Less dumb?"

> Nailed it. Benrey is getting good at this "empathy" thing.

Gordon drags his gaze up from the ground to Benrey, and immediately scrunches his eyebrows up. "Wow, that was almost nice of you," he says, a touch of genuine surprise in his voice. It doesn't outweigh the disdain, though. "You know what? Just don't do anything. The best thing you can do right now is to stand right there and do absolutely nothing... and let me just... catch my breath."

He hopes against hope that, for once, Benrey will do what he says. Despite all the evidence that suggests otherwise. His internal monologue turns a bit haggard. Well, it's not like there's anything he could do about it, anyway. Even if he was fit as a fiddle, if Benrey wanted to fuck off and get lost, there was no stopping him.

He can't hold Benrey's stare for long, though. It's-- it's always harder to look him right in the eye like this. Something about the size of him makes it uncomfortable, like he's staring right through Gordon. So he darts his eyes away, scanning his surroundings. The perils of an alien landscape: all the little islands and chunks of earth start to look the same after awhile. Rocks and strange, angry plants and pools of mysterious fluids. He's seen it all. There's a number of all these things and more around him, but the one thing he finds himself wishing for is something to eat. You can't trust anything out here.

"I just want a burger, man," Gordon groans. "Sick of jumping around like I'm playing some kind of platformer. You know, they never tell you how exhausting this shit is! My heart's-- my heart's racing-- like, adrenaline? Hate fucking jumping over these big-ass pits, I'm tellin' you."

Or, failing that, like, a nap. Or a bath. He vocalizes both of these things before burying his head in his hands. Maybe he could get one of those microsleeps going. If he can just calm the fuck down, anyway.

> Food? Nap? Bath?

> Benrey's mouth curls into a jagged smile. Of course Gordon would just need some of that weird, seemingly pointless human stuff. You would think after two grand adventures of dragging this sad sack around and listening to him complain every two meters, he'd have picked up on the human necessities. Things like 'burger" and "bed time" and "smelling like preferred smells, and not the natural smells that are apparently 'bad.'"

> A huge sigh heaves out of Benrey and he watches in amusement as it makes Gordon's hair puff out of his face. Small little tiny man, curled up on a chunk of rock, not able to embiggen and make things easier. It's sad and pathetic, almost as sad and pathetic as Gordon looks, but Benrey knows he's capable of being a good enough guy for the both of them. A real bro. A best friend.

> Because he knows Xen inside and out for some reason. And he's observant. He's seen things and can do the mental math necessary to figure out how to problem solve, sort of. He's spent enough time floating around Xen to figure out what those sparkly puddles do, and he's seen enough of those people back in the Wrong World eat the not-Lamarrs (or, at least the Vorti-bros did, which were close enough).

> And, well, Gordon could literally sleep anywhere. There was dirt for days, lots of rocks to align the spine. Fun nap places. Good for Gordon.

> With a burst of pride and dagger-toothed grin, Benrey propped his elbow on the island where Gordon was whining and held out his hand, palm up and flat, extended as an open invitation.

> "Oh. Uh. That it? That's, uh... that's a cool I can do. Big cool for you."

He stares, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What? What do you mean, that's a-- What are you doing?"

> "I'm doing a cool," Benrey responds. Though his voice is still fairly flat, there is a bite to it, hidden almost completely under his monotone. As if to emphasize the point, he lifts his hand and slaps it back down into the earth once more in a way he thought was light. Judging from the way the ground shook and the island rocked, perhaps not as light as he'd imagined.

> "Gonna, uh... help. Or somethin'. You gettin' on or you gonna be a babyman about it?"

Gordon yelps as the ground shakes around him, even though he's (relatively) safe on the ground. "Jesus, Benrey! Watch it!"

What the hell is he doing? His eyes dart between Benrey's hand and face as the gears struggle to turn. It's been a long fucking day, all right, and Benrey's... Benrey-isms are hard enough to understand at the best of times. This is supposed to help, somehow. So, scratch the burger. And the nap, too, probably. So, does that mean he wants to--

No. That's stupid. He's stupid for thinking it. Gordon steadfastly ignores the way his ears prickle and shakes his head, like a dog ridding itself of water.

"Please tell me you're gonna just carry me the rest of the way," Gordon sighs. It's a visible effort for him to get back to his feet. "Hey, actually, why didn't you just do that from the get-go? You're not even breaking a sweat!"

He complains, sure, but it doesn't stop him from dizzily shuffling forward and stepping on. Better late than never. He'll have plenty of time to chew Benrey out for this once he's out of this alien hellscape and back in his own goddamn bed.

> Benrey blinks.

> Oh. Yeah. He probably could have carried Gordon, huh? The thought never really occurred to him at first because, well, why would it? Was he a bad guy--a bad friend--for believing that his bestest buddy was a capable man? Color him insensitive for actually expecting things of Gordon, but he'd just watched the guy win Space Invaders in real life.

> After that, traipsing through Xen should have been a walk in the park.

> Best not to point that out, though. Gordon may take offense and, for once in his life, he isn't out to make him mad. He's trying to be good, trying to carry that camaraderie they built from Shit World Without Sony Products back to Good World With Heavenly Sword. Highlighting Gordon's stupid human failings would only work to reset the karma he'd worked so hard to build up in their social link. Or, you know, however humans fucking worked.

> Instead, he lets Gordon crawl onto his hand and then turns away, wracking his mind for the last place he saw a good puddle. After all, it made sense to start with a bath, right? Eating while gross would make Gordon complain, and sleeping while gross wouldn't be much better. Drifting past island after island, his head swivels to see if maybe there are some good candidates going forward.

> And there's... really not. Testicle stalks. Pointy rocks. Less pointy rocks. Tit-on-stilts that is aggressively spitting little Lamarrs over the edge of a rock chunk that looks like Swiss cheese. Benrey isn't sure what it's hoping to accomplish, but it's sure as fuck not accomplishing it.

> Then, he sees it, in the distance: A glittering pool of blue that sparks like electricity and glitters like cheap body mist. A strange smell, not unlike Sweet Voice, wafts from its direction. It's certainly one of the Good Smells Humans Like. Gordon will love it.

> Wordlessly, he glides toward it. Gordon's smart. He'll know what he's getting at.

Benrey's not saying anything, which is mildly concerning, but he is looking around like he knows what he's looking for. And when Benrey fucks off, Gordon in tow - held in a grip that's a little looser than he likes - Gordon lets his brain wind down for the first time in... a long while. Flying around Xen like this is nervewracking, yeah, but in a way he's more equipped to handle. Benrey's chest at his back helps. It's solid as a wall and deceptively warm, and if he keeps himself pressed flat against it, he can almost forget about these bottomless pits they're flying over.

He lets Benrey go like that for an indeterminable amount of time. (He may have dozed off a little.) But Gordon comes back to himself once Benrey's velocity changes. Gets a bit more pointed. Eventually, Gordon puzzles out that he's heading for one island in particular, one with a shimmering pool on its surface. Not exactly what the endgame was.

Wait. Gordon's brain chugs. He was looking for... some kind of water? Oh, Christ.

"Wait, were you being serious about the bath thing?" he asks as they approach. "I-- I wasn't being that serious about it! Getting out of here kind of seems like the more important thing!"

> "Huh?"

> The word falls off of Benrey's lips despite the fact he actually heard everything Gordon said. He heard him and even registered him, but he just didn't get him. After all, he's fairly certain that Gordon wants a bath considering it was one of the big things that spewed out of his mouth when he was being all needlessly fussy before, so why isn't he just saying it? Owning up to it?

> Was it because it was a detour? Slowing them down? Or was it just Gordon being whatever-the-hell-Gordon-was?

> Yeah, that had to be it. Gordon just doesn't want to get side-tracked. That's fair, he supposes. Or, at the very least, he assumes that's what a human would consider fair, considering how obsessed with "time" and "schedules" and "fast" they all were.

> "Real quick dip," Benrey promises, hoping to put Gordon's mind at ease; it was a far cry from what he typically did, so he could only hope it landed properly, that he was saying the right things and had the right inflections. "Real fast. Get'cha all nice. Wet. Uh. Soaps and hygiene. You know."

"Oh my God, man, it's gonna be a whole fuckin' production!" Gordon agonizes as Benrey brings them to that strange, glittering watering hole. "Saving the world's kinda time-sensitive, you know? And it's always such a hassle getting in and out of this thing! And-- Okay, hold on, you actually want to-- Okay. Fine. Look, I'm just saying, this is weird even for you, Benrey!"

Soaps. Hygiene. You know. Letting his best frenemy peel him out of his suit so he can scrub him clean, like normal people do. A shiver runs down the back of Gordon's neck. There's gotta be some kind of catch, but honestly, he's having a hard enough time keeping up with events as they're written. If there's some kind of malicious subtext to this whole thing, well, that's not his problem. He's got more important things to worry about, like convincing Benrey that it would be a little more prudent to just keep forging on rather than waste valuable time on a bath.

...Unfortunately, he's close enough to smell whatever it is that wafts off the surface in waves, and it makes Gordon's resolve waver. It's a clean smell, warm and vaguely fruity, with an undercurrent of salinity. Like a shower that's just been used, almost. God, he'd really like that, wouldn't he.

> The words don't really have weight to them anymore. If Benrey had a nickel for every time Gordon called him "weird" or told him he was endangering the world by taking detours, he'd have enough nickels to melt them down and make a big-ass nickel. And, judging from the way even Gordon's mouth wasn't running anymore, it didn't seem like Gordon had put any weight into his own words, either.

> Which was good. Real good. It meant Benrey was doing a nice job of not pressing every one of Gordon's buttons like a kid in an elevator, and being a proper friend. Best friend. More than friend? God, he fucking wished.

> And he'd shut up right in the nick of time, too, because the urge to tease is building up inside of Benrey like pressure in a flaming aerosol can. It's hard not to want to pick at him when Gordon is griping like this, just goading him on with his (strangely cute) bullshit. Benrey mentally pats himself on the back for a job well done as he glides to the edge of the island and leans carefully over the tiny expanse of mottled dirt and glittering water.

> "S'fine. You're fine. S'gonna be fine. Just cleanin' you up, makin' you pretty. Like a good friend. Best friend."

> The water bubbles against the back of his hand as he extends it, dangling Gordon over the surface so he can get a good look at it himself. Maybe, with the proper viewing, he'll realize that this will be a pleasant time all around. Good for him. Fun for Benrey. Bonding experience.

> "Gonna make you, uh, real shiny. Polished. A, ah, regular... Casa... Casa del Nova."

> With that, he hooks a nail under one of the thigh pieces of the HEV suit and waits, eyes resting on Gordon's face in search of approval. Approval he selfishly hopes comes quick, before reflex takes over and he pops it off regardless.

Gordon peers over the edge of Benrey's hand to look down at the water, where it lies placid and clear and a vivid blue-green. Mysterious bubbles aside. It's... it's like one of those pools at Yellowstone, he thinks dizzily. They look so warm and inviting and then you step in and suddenly your flesh is deciding to melt right off of you. Gordon's stomach swoops unpleasantly.

Then Benrey offhandedly mentions making him pretty, as if he were just trying to sell Gordon on a new restaurant, and it swoops for an entirely different reason. An irritating reason.

"Don't just fucking say things like that," he says hotly, his voice pitching up and cracking from nerves.

But it becomes an afterthought in short order when Gordon feels Benrey's nail tugging at his HEV suit, and he realizes that Benrey's very, very serious about this. Especially when he fixes Gordon with that intent stare. Like he's waiting for something. Permission? It must be, since he's not making any moves to pop off the armor on his thigh. Gordon looks down at Benrey's finger, chipped black paint peeking out from the corners, then back up at Benrey.

Oh, fuck this. He hates when Benrey does this. It's one of those mind games, or something. Make Gordon be the one to make the call, like it's a game of chicken and Benrey's trying to get him to lose. Instead of, you know, not derailing his entire fucking journey in the first place with the suggestion of a bath. One where, well, it does smell really nice. And he can feel the ambient heat from the water from his perch on Benrey's palm. And Benrey's offering to pry him out of his suit and, presumably, do the washing for him. So Gordon doesn't have to move a muscle. Or even think about it.

His face twists and turns its way through a melange of emotions before he decides, fuck it. Even if this is weird, and Benrey's probably playing some kind of 4-dimensional chess, his mind's already sold itself on the idea. So Gordon's tongue darts out to wet his lips, mouth unexpectedly dry.

"I-- Okay-- You know what, fine. We're already here. Just... no, fucking, tricks or jokes or whatever, man. If you leave me on some fucking rock with my dick out, I'm going to kill you," Gordon tells Benrey.

> What Benrey wants to say is that Gordon is being a baby. A bitch, even. There's no reason for him to get all flustered and pissy when they've already done so many things together. Things that only the closest of bros do, like take down a hostile invading force and push their dicks together and make out. But instead, Benrey takes a deep and steady breath as he works his nails deeper under the chassis of the HEV suit and tugs up with a satisfying click as the latches come undone and the thigh piece flops uselessly off of Gordon.

> "Cool."

> He moves onto the next section, eyes narrowing and eyebrows knitting above his nose as he looks down at Gordon and tries to focus. Head empty, aside from trying to figure out how in the hell he's actually supposed to undo all the delicate bits with fingers as big as his human. It was easier when he was small, and he supposes he could be small again, but that would be no fun. Perhaps he could just rip it off of Gordon with his teeth like the top of a sardine can, but it would be even less fun to deal with the little guy yelling at him for hours.

> Getting Gordon's goat was fun and all, but god, did the guy know how to harp on a subject like no other person he'd ever met.

> Instead, Benrey's tongue pokes out between his fangs as he presses the tip of his finger against the inside of Gordon's other thigh and lets his fingernail search for the seam, the latch. He cocks his head like an owl and leans down close enough that Gordon could touch his face, heaving out a huge and uncharacteristically irritated breath. From here, he can smell the musky odor of sweat and dirt and grime and alien goo, and it's strangely nice. Earthy. Very Gordon.

> He'd smelled it before, when he wasn't quite this big, when Gordon was unzipping his suit and climbing into his lap and drool pools at the corner of Benrey's mouth, equal parts saliva and lusty Sweet Voice and--

> Click.

> The other piece of thigh armor falls away. The noise shakes Benrey to his senses.

> "Turn please," he orders mindlessly. His voice is a bit more husky and demanding than it had been a moment before.

Gordon watches as Benrey pops off his armor like it's nothing, like Gordon hasn't spent hours fruitlessly trying to do the same himself. It would have saved him the constant indignity of relying on Benrey to get him in and out of the fucking thing. He tries really hard not to think about the indignity of this, too - Benrey's face so close to his, a hot, irritable breath fanning over him, and fingers at his--

Oh. Gordon jumps a little at the insistent press of a fingertip against his inner thigh, and heat rushes to his face. This part's mildly embarrassing at the best of times, when Benrey's smaller and more human-sized, but now? With fingers much too big for the job? Spreading his legs apart where he sits, rubbing insistently against his inner thigh... He can't help the shaky breath that forces its way out of him.

Jesus Christ, his hands are big, Gordon thinks, mind racing. Sure, yes, he's had this thought before, when Benrey was using them to slap gunships out of the air, but it's a little more pointed when they're prodding him like this. He tenses. Not entertaining these thoughts today, thank you. The whole point of this, presumably, was for a normal, ordinary bath. In a pool of mysterious alien water. With his rival stripping him down and scrubbing him. While he's so big that he could squish Gordon like a bug, if he wanted... or pick Gordon up and maneuver him around, broad fingers all over him, sizing him up. If he wanted.

He comes back to himself when he hears a command. Turn please. Quick and insistent. Gordon's eyes jerk away from where they'd been staring at Benrey's finger.

"Turn? Like, fucking-- God, ow--" Gordon hisses through his teeth as the motion twists one of his aching muscles the wrong way. "I don't even know why I'm doing this. It's not like this was stopping you... You know, I'm starting to think you just like bossing people around for no fucking reason." Despite his bitching, he does as he's told.

> Maybe he does like it. The bossing, that is. Benrey isn't sure. It's one of the few human things he knows--his job back at Black Mesa--and it's one of those things he's good at. Usually. At least now he feels good at it, with Gordon actually listening to him.

> He watches as Gordon turns, head shifting to tilt in the other direction, watching as his human trustingly turns his back to him and displays himself in a way that makes more Sweet Voice seep from between his teeth. He sniffs, he uses the back of his free hand to wipe away a trickle of fluorescent fluid trailing from his lips, and quickly wipes his hands off on his pants. His eyes never leaves Gordon's back.

> Lower back.

> His ass.

> Benrey had told him before that it was a nice one, and it was still true... uh, even if he can't really see it with Gordon sitting and all. He can imagine it in its entirety, though, nice and small, even as he fumbles with the latches on the back of the chest piece. He hardly notices as he clicks it open and the front hits the pad of his palm with an audible slap of metal against skin. He reaches around to pluck it away, the side of his hand brushing against Gordon's front.

> Gordon's heaving chest. His soft midsection. His...

> Benrey shakes his head as if snapping himself out of a trance. An involuntary laugh snorts out of his nose as he leans down, peeking over Gordon's shoulder like a creeping dragon, breath hot against the back of Gordon's neck.

> "Cute."

> And with that, he grabs the next part of Gordon: his arm, raising it up effortlessly like a doll's and carefully searching for the next latch.

Maybe facing away from Benrey wasn't the smartest idea, in retrospect. It feels like he's closer, somehow, his breath coming hotter and faster against Gordon's back. Benrey breathing down his neck should be, like, gross. Creepy. Gordon knows by now that Benrey likes to make a big deal about keeping them clean, but it's not like he knows when Benrey brushed last. It shouldn't smell... like that. Sweet. A distinct chemical note on the underside. Like ketones on his breath, but nothing that Gordon can place for certain.

Sweet Voice, probably. It's muted and subtle. He's not belting it out like he usually does, so Gordon can only guess what Benrey's feeling. Unfortunately, he's all too aware of what he's feeling: goosebumps, pebbling his skin from the neck down. A little frisson. They crawl all the way down his arms and make him shiver. He can practically feel Benrey's eyes on him, too, all up close and personal. Don't break a sweat, he wills himself, because he knows Benrey's watching him like a hawk.

It doesn't stop a bead from pooling at the back of his hairline, then losing the fight against gravity and slowly trickling down his neck.

Benrey snorts, and Gordon flinches, cursing under his breath. He couldn't even have that, huh. Then Benrey has the audacity to call him cute. And that makes his blood pulse, briefly flashing his skin with heat, before receding just as quickly and leaving a chill in its wake.

"Wh-- Whoa, okay," Gordon starts. His indignant response is temporarily cut off by Benrey lifting his arm between a thumb and forefinger. He offers about as much resistance as a fucking action figure, even creaking a little for good measure, and it's distracting, okay?

After a few moments, though, he regains his bearings. "Shut up, man," he says, flustered. "I'm not even-- Just-- Quit being weird, okay?" Because, frankly, this is weird. He's not used to Benrey being so... accommodating. Helpful. Nice. And he doesn't know what Benrey's endgame is, here. So it just leaves Gordon feeling off-kilter. Uncertain. A little hot in the face.

> Benrey's eyes flick up like a lizard that's spotted its next meal when he hears Gordon's words, conveniently at the same time as he finds the latch with his nail. The armor on his upper arm falls away with a clonk and his fingers move down to the much-easier-to-remove gloves and wrist pieces, which come undone with a light twist and an even lighter yank. But his gaze isn't even looking at what he's doing, instead resting on the back of Gordon's hair, now wet with sweat and the dampness of his own breath.

> His skin is raised up in little bumps, and so are his hackles. Something bright and violet and base, fluorescent, builds at the back of Benrey's tongue, and he swallows it down. He has to focus, keep his composure. Get the other arm with a few quick clicks, fingers now more adventurous than they were before. The pads trail across Gordon's back, the undersuit bunching with his touch, pressing into his side for no reason other than the urge to feel. Then, when the second arm is freed, he remembers he forgot the boots.

> "Not being weird," Benrey protests as he wrangles Gordon in his grip, sighing heavily as he pinches him lightly in his grasp and rolls him in his hand like some kind of trinket. Until they're face to face once again and Gordon is flat on his back in his palm. He takes a moment to idly scratch his chin before reaching for the metal encasing his lower legs and feet.

> "Not weird to, uh, help a bro out. Be a friend. Friends call friends cute. All the time. Every day. S'pre... pre-requi... prere..." He pauses and stills and, then, with unwarranted confidence, forces the word out and continues fiddling. "It's pre-registered to, uh, do that. Yeah."

Blunt fingers at his arm, his back, his sides, prodding and rolling him around - each investigatory touch makes Gordon cognizant of just how much he's holding his breath. Until Benrey manhandles him into laying flat on his back, that is. A startled noise bursts out of him, and then Gordon's looking straight up at Benrey, with nowhere to go to escape him. Even without a hand pinning him down, he can't help but feel like he's stuck in place, anyway.

At least Gordon can sit up on his elbows a little. Less like he's some kind of specimen that way. And he lets Benrey fiddle with the boots, the strange feeling that curls in his stomach easing up on him the longer Benrey messes with something other than his soft, fleshy, vulnerable bits. He lets out a shaky breath of... relief. Let's go with that.

"IIII don't know about that," he says. "I'll be real with you, I'm not the kind of guy who does that... Uh. Well. Except there was that one time in high school? But it kind of weirded her out and she stopped talking to me."

Gordon pauses for a moment, brows wrinkling in thought. Then he shakes himself. "Anyway, that's not even the point. The point is," Gordon emphasizes, feeling like he's trying to present a convincing legal argument to a judge with all the size and breadth of (and possibly, the powers of) some ancient Greek god, "I think you have a, uh, tenuous grasp of what friendship entails, buddy. My friends don't call me cute."

As an afterthought, under his breath, he adds, "Nobody calls me cute." It comes out more bitter than he expects.

> The boots come off, one after another. The shin guards, too. Politely, Benrey scoops up all the miscellaneous pieces piled in his palm between his free fingers and puts them to rest next to the pool of... well, "water." Liquid. Something, though he's hard pressed to tell you exactly what it is. "The Bath."

> He listens as he does so, to Gordon squawking and muttering and saying, well, things. Things that he's not really listening to as he brings his hands back up to Gordon and tries to figure out where the zipper to the bodysuit is. Technically, he knows where it is, but his fingers are huge and the zippy-uppy part is so small, and he's prodding and poking with gentle strokes along Gordon's chest and belly where he saw the seam once-upon-a-time. He feels his nail click against the metal and it's... uh, well, it's aggravating.

> And Benrey isn't used to this kind of aggravation. Fuck's sake, he just wants to see some dic... ah. He just wants to help his best friend get a nice bath and feel better. Because he is a good guy who does good things like kill gun bugs for tiny dudes who can't shoot straight and not drive off with vehicles when Gordon leaves him alone. He's a good guy who doesn't want to be bad and--

> "Uh," he drawls, his mouth moving before he can really catch himself, "fuckin'... maybe people would call you cute if you, uh, weren't such a, uh, mean. So mean about it. Mean to me, just trying to say nices. To my best friend. Being such a good and a cool."

> His voice dies as he misses the zipper again. Fuck. When he speaks again, it darkens.

> "Please unzip suit? Please? Thank-you."

Soon enough Benrey's got him down to that reinforced bodysuit, the last piece of armor sliding off his hand with little resistance. Usually, this is where this process stops: Benrey gets him out of the armor, and Gordon fucks off and does whatever it is he needs to do. Change. Wash up. Sleep. The part where Benrey starts tugging at the fabric in search of the zipper? That's new. And it catches Gordon so unawares that he can't even speak.

That fingertip strokes him, almost, warm even through the black fabric, and a harsh breath whistles through Gordon's nose. It feels him up from his chest to his belly, a warm and insistent pressure. All the words in Gordon's brain get trapped in a mental sieve. In their place is a single, repeating thought:

Oh, God.

Benrey keeps trying, again and again, fingernails scraping uselessly against Gordon's belly. And his eyebrows furrow harder with the effort, frustration evident in his frown. And his fingers. Their grasping grows rough and imprecise and Gordon's trying so hard to bite his lip because there's an ugly noise threatening to punch his way out of him and Benrey's saying something to him that he can barely focus on and then finally, finally, he's giving up and pulling away. Christ.

It takes a moment for his mental fog to clear and for Benrey's words to sink in. Unzip? Himself? Oh, no. Somehow that's worse.

"Can you, like... give me some privacy, maybe?" Gordon complains.

He immediately feels stupid afterward. It trickles down from his scalp like something cold and slimy. So he clears his throat, and admits, begrudging, "I, uh... I'm not trying to be mean. It's been a long fucking day, okay? You're... uh... Well. Thanks. I guess. For trying to be nice."

There's a beat before the silence gets to be too uncomfortable, and Gordon hurriedly follows it up by saying, "Don't take this the wrong way. I think you could still use a few pointers on being 'nice' to 'humans', you know."

> "Wha?"

> In a second, the irritation is gone. Benrey's expression turns flat. He leans in close to Gordon and inhales deeply (yup, still smells like Gordon) and exhales just as hard.

> "I'm nice," he defends, eyes flicking down the pile of HEV parts on the island. "Fuckin', ah, Mother Tuh-ree-sah. You're the one who is bein'--"

> A pause. Nice. He was being nice, and he wasn't going to pick at Gordon. He wasn't going to point out that he was the one being snippy, while he was out here undressing him, and carrying him around, and getting ready to give him a bath, and maybe touch his--

> Wait.

> "Privacy?"

> The word tastes bad, real bad. The kind of bad that makes Benrey want to scrape his tongue off on his teeth. That isn't how they'd played these games before. Is this even still a game, though? Did "nice" contradict "games" too much? He isn't sure and he doesn't even give himself a chance to think about it as he nudges Gordon encouragingly with a finger and the words just start rolling out of his mouth.

> "No? No place to private at, bro. Maybe gonna have to just, ah, suck it up, friend. Besides--"

> Benrey leans forward on the island on his elbow, chin resting in his hand. As his body tilts, Gordon raises higher up due to his shifting of positions.

> "Can't, ah, can't not look. Dinosaurs and, uh, zombies out here. Ghosts. Gotta keep my eye on you. Safe-tee."

Safety. Right. As much as Gordon doesn't want to admit it, Benrey has a point. He's... vulnerable like this. And it would be just his luck that he gets beset by a peeper puppy with his dick hanging out. More to the point, he knows that it's stupid to develop a sense of modesty all of a sudden when Benrey's seen his dick before. It's just, you know, the size. The scrutiny.

Heat lodges itself in Gordon's face and makes a home there as Benrey brings him all the closer. As if to see him better. "Dinosaurs and zombies," he snorts. He can't believe that's the justification Benrey's giving him. And he can't believe he's buying it.

"Just... fucking, okay. Don't stare, at least," Gordon tells him, as if it will help.

The zipper's nestled in the seam at his neck, right in the center. Gordon fishes it out with shaky fingers. And then, slowly, he drags it down his front.

As he does, his flesh starts to spill from the suit in a creamy sliver. He's paler underneath, skin shielded from the sun for so long that his characteristic tan has all but faded. Consequences of running around in a HEV suit in the middle of Bulgaria. The rattle of the zipper rings in Gordon's ears, louder than life. First his chest, then his stomach, prickling with goosebumps in turn as they're revealed.

Finally, he pulls it down to its endpoint, just under his navel. Gordon's face burns with embarrassment.

> That... was easier than Benrey anticipated. Usually there's more resistance or, you know, playing involved whenever he asked Gordon to do something like that. Usually he had something a little more snide to say. Something in the air has changed, though, and he dimly wonders if maybe all of that advice he'd taken from the Resistors (Resistance? Transistors? Alyx, basically) has actually paid off.

> Learning how to human does, in fact, make interacting with Gordon easier.

> His pupils widen as he stares, mouth slightly agape, as more and more of Gordon's skin is revealed to him, a pretty porcelain color that looks incredibly soft and as delicate as a china doll. Usually he's darker, tanner; Benrey didn't know humans could change colors like that, but it's an interesting development and one that requires further investigation.

> So he leans closer, head tilted, watching the zipper come undone. Curiosity grips him as he gingerly reaches up and hooks his nails into the open edges of the suit and tugs, enough to jostle Gordon and peel away the wrapper but not enough to actually knock Gordon off his feet. As he does so, he ignores the sounds of protests, mouth opening wider and lifting in a sharkish grin.

> He's so pale now, but he's just as soft as Benrey remembers. Just as warm. Hair's still in all the right places, muscles in his arms growing visible as Benrey tugs the sleeves down, then the rest, leaving the top half of the bodysuit dangling from around his still-covered waist.

> He waits a moment, drinking in the sight. He could almost see his--

> No. No. No dick thinking, not now. No. He wasn't going to say anything because he was seriously just trying to be nice. And make Gordon shut up. And...

> And...

> "Cute."

> The word comes out while his brain is still arguing with himself. For a moment, he considers apologizing, or trying to pretend he never said it, but ultimately decides to stand by what he said.

> His eyes lift to rest on Gordon's face as he silently doubles down, waiting for a reply.

"Hey, careful," Gordon yelps, caught off-guard by fingers at the edges of his open suit. "You don't have to fucking-- Benrey, I can do this myself!" But there's no fighting him off before Benrey's tugging it down his shoulders, baring him from the waist up.

Impatient. That's the word that comes to mind. Benrey's itching to get him out of this thing, Gordon realizes. If it wasn't already obvious by that insistent scrape of nails against his jumpsuit, or the way Benrey's looking at him now, eyes wide and mouth parted. That heat in Gordon's cheeks crawls down to his chest. He's staring at Gordon like he's hungry, and all the pasty skin being revealed to him may as well be a juicy T-bone steak. Being half-naked ought to be making him pretty chilly in a place like this, but for some reason, it feels way too fucking hot right now.

Thankfully, Benrey stops there, which gives him a moment to get his bearings. On the other hand, Benrey's calling him fucking cute again, and Gordon was having a bad enough time handling that earlier. Now? Jesus, the guy's barely paying attention to him. Mumbling it like it's an afterthought. He doesn't know what it means.

"I-- I'm not fucking cute, dude, we already established this," he insists, doing his level best not to meet Benrey's stare. Gordon folds his arms, irritable and flushed a bright red. "I'm too mean or whatever. I got the picture. You don't have to keep fucking with me."

> Oh, he's changing colors again. Red now, from the tips of his ears down to his chest, and Benrey snorts a laugh. Of course humans can change colors. He'd seen him do this before. A few times actually.

> But he's just turning red, and being snippy, and he's not making a move to take off the rest of the suit. Benrey's eyes flick from Gordon to the water and, with a low chuckle, he decides to take the cue. Which... was a cue, right? He's pretty sure it's a cue, but humans were weird to begin with and Gordon was odder than most.

> Has to be a cue, he decides after a moment of silence wherein Gordon doesn't budge. He grabs the draping top of the suit and gently peels it downwards towards Gordon's feet, watching it pull away from sweaty, dirty skin. Watching it expose dark curls of hair just below his stomach, and watching Gordon's dick spill out into the open air. Benrey's teeth dig into his lips as he watches, even as his hands move clumsily to strip the rest of the rubbery material off of his legs.

> He's touched that before. Wants to touch it again, wants to say something about it. But he can't because apparently it was bad form to say shit about your best bro's average-but-good meat when he wasn't specifically asking, or at least that's what his stupid, skinny doppelganger had said and--

> God. Wait. No. He shakes his head. Best to focus on anything else.

> What else had the Resist-y Squad said? To listen? Humans liked listening? Even when they were being bitchy little drama-snots?

> Then he should... listen, right? But... what had Gordon said? He wasn't actually paying attention. He furrows his brow and his stare intensifies as he tries to piece together enough of the words he did hear to paint a picture. It takes a moment, but soon, it clicks.

> Oh. Yeah. Not cute. Blah, blah. Something, something "mean."

> Benrey's mouth snaps shut as he struggles to tear his eyes away from Gordon's cock, instead keeping a trained eye on his face. His mind is a machine running on fumes with rattling parts, but he struggles through the distraction. He's going to be reassuring. He's a good friend.

> "Uh... yeah? Mean? Cute? You can be both. Bratty little, ah, Gordon Meanman with his nice... cute. Cute little hog."

> The words come out before he can stop them.

> Goddammit.

Oh, God, okay, so none of what he said got through, clearly. He squawks out as much. Gordon's mind spins into overdrive as Benrey manifestly does not let him take care of it himself, instead peeling the jumpsuit clean off his hips and legs and exposing him from top to bottom. His heart thunders in his chest, and he presses his legs tightly together in a futile attempt at modesty.

"My-- my cute little-- Jesus Christ, Benrey, you can not say shit like like that!" Gordon snaps. He jams his hands between his legs to cover himself, humiliation boiling over.

Fucking Benrey. Always saying the worst possible shit, the most embarrassing shit. Gordon thinks this as furiously as he can, because if he acknowledges that there's anything other than purestrain embarrassment and indignation at play, he's gonna snap like a twig. That's all it is. He's a normal guy, and normal guys don't feel their dicks twitch when their best friend calls their dick cute. And... little. That's worse. Much worse.

The thing that Gordon's still failing to understand is why Benrey's still calling him cute. Yeah, it gets his goat, but it's not like Benrey was in the habit of pulling this shit before. And... And Gordon doesn't know why it's getting to him so much, either.

The first time seemed like a prank. A bad joke. The second time, an accident. And the third - fourth - fifth? The times after that, he's not sure anymore. But each time it gets his skin burning hotter and his heart skipping a beat and Gordon's still pissed off but he's not sure exactly why. (Well, in the general sense. This time, it's because Benrey's straight up insulting his dick, thank you.)

"Why did I even agree to this," he moans, head hanging between his shoulders. "Everything's always gotta be a big fucking ordeal for Gordon. You know what, just put me down if you're gonna-- gonna make fun of my meat or whatever! I'll get myself a bath and then we can go and forget this ever happened."

> There is something about the way Gordon fusses at him that makes Benrey's heart skip a beat, though it also awakens something in the back of his mind that he's been consciously trying to tamp down. The urge to pick at him grows as large as his smile as he hooks two fingers under Gordon's arms and lifts him up and out of his palm like a claw in a skill crane. Words dance on the tip of his tongue, ones better fit for a schoolyard bully, and he rumbles a dark laugh as he contemplates what to say.

> It seems the crack about his hog got him all worked up in a delicious sort of way, judging from the way he's still bright crimson and his dick seems appreciative of Benrey's attention. He could double down on that. Then again, he was supposed to be nice in this situation, wasn't he? He'd been doing so good up until this point, and he could imagine the Resist-y People would be proud if they could see him now.

> But the reaction. It's... it's good. Seeing Gordon's dick twitch, seeing him bright as a tomato, seeing him sweating and nervously dodging his gaze. All were signs that he was interested, that he may just be thinking the same things Benrey has been trying not to think and... fuck, them's good thoughts. Great thoughts.

> Maybe there's a line to walk between. Play the game and still be "nice." Benrey wets his lips and huffs a sweet-scented laugh into Gordon's face, before gently lowering him into the water. The surface of the pool practically sparks as Gordon's bare feet make contact, and a shimmering azure mist billows into the air.

> "Nuh-uh. Nope," Benrey replies with a pop of the p. "You're, uh, tired. Gonna, y'know, get you sparkly. Clean. Squeaky. Pretty. Make you feel so good you'll, uh, wanna buy BFF necklaces after."

> Once Gordon is nestled in the pool, he leans down close and presses down on his shoulders to urge him into a seated position.

> "'Sides, ah. Not making fun. S'nice. Cute. Fun size."

> Emphasis on "fun," Benrey thinks, and his smile widens.

A tingle effervesces across Gordon's skin as Benrey slowly lowers him into the water, something like carbonation but not quite. For one, bubbles aren't nucleating on him so much as drifting toward the surface, sluggish and small. But the effect is as curiously refreshing as a cold glass of Pepsi.

In contrast, the water itself is warm and clear, and the humidity fogs up his glasses in short order. Makes it hard to see Benrey before he's firmly suggesting that Gordon sit down. With his hand. He's not expecting it, and he sinks to his knees with a splash and a quiet "whoa, shit".

Gordon rights himself, sitting back against the edge of the pool. And he opens his mouth to say-- well, something, you know, there was a lot to unpack in whatever the fuck Benrey just said to him, but he barely gets it out before Benrey's talking over him.

Cute. Fun size.

"Stop, okay, just stop talking about my meat! Can we please move on? Any other topic?" He crosses his arms in front of his face.

This is, it's too fucking much, okay, there's-- it's just-- the word was already starting to crawl under his skin, and he's just an average American male! You're not supposed to say this shit to another dude! And you're not supposed to, fucking, swallow and shudder when you hear that shit, either. Not supposed to like being talked down to like that. By... by such a big guy. Who probably does think he's a fun size right now. Probably wants to...

Gordon splashes his face with water. Then he takes off his glasses after the fact, feeling like an idiot. See, this is why he's got to get Benrey to knock it off. Too much. Gets him lost in his own head. Gets his blood pumping. And the last thing he wants is to embarrass himself by looking a gift horse in the mouth, getting a boner when Benrey's just trying to do him a solid.

Well. At least that's what he's saying he's doing. The jury's still out on that one. But either way, the most likely outcome is that Benrey never lets him live it down, and Gordon doesn't know if he can handle the psychological devastation right now. So.

"Here, look, I'll even... okay, so, what is this stuff, anyway? It feels like I'm taking a bath in a... a hot energy drink. But like, in a good way?" He cups some in his hand and lets it spill through his fingers. "Last time I jumped in this stuff, I think it fixed a bone. Is that normal? Weirdest fucking thing I ever felt, man."

> "I 'unno," Benrey answers honestly. Because, well, he doesn't know what this stuff is. Even if he knows a lot about Xen (and would be hard-pressed to tell you exactly how he knows these things), it's not like he knew much more than "this thing will eat you" and "this thing won't." All he knows is that these pools feel good and smell good and do things that are good, and could more than likely get Gordon clean. Make him have a more agreeable scent than the already agreeable people-odor he's already wearing.

> The Gordon smell. It's... a nice smell.

> "It's water. Uh. Bubbles." Benrey dips his fingertips in the pool to wet them and feels the curious, sparkling sensation around his skin; it's warm and cold and fizzy and, honestly? Yeah, kind of refreshing. Like caffeinated Pop Rocks or something. He dimly wonders what it tastes like, but ultimately decides not to drink the bath water.

> "Doesn't matter. You're thinking a lot. About wrong things. Need to focus on, uh, getting you ready. For the ball. Gordo-rella." He pauses, scowling. That was bad even for him. Quickly, he recovers, as if it never happened. "So, quiet? Please? Relax?"

> With that, Benrey extends one wet finger and presses against Gordon's chest, as carefully as he can, working in the glittering water and scrubbing gingerly at his chest hair. He works his muscles with a care he didn't know he possessed, and then maneuvers to his shoulders. He feels Gordon's muscles loosening underneath his touch and it makes him feel... accomplished.

> But his eyes keep straying down, down into the water where Gordon's dick should be, obscured by bubbles and blue. And he exhales, fighting the urge to press a button, to raise him up and see if it's still twitching in anticipation, wondering if he'll see it break the surface and greet him.

> Benrey's eyes screw shut and his fingers still as he takes a moment to force himself to be, as Gordon would say, "normal." It is a foreign feeling.

> He is not a fan.

"G-Gordo-rella?" Gordon bursts out laughing despite himself. "That's so bad, I know you can do better than that!" And the funny thing is, he does know. Benrey's got jokes. He's... good at making Gordon laugh. Even when he's clearly phoning it in.

The laughter sets him at ease for the first time since they'd set out the day before. And when Benrey reaches out to start scrubbing, Gordon flinches, but does as Benrey suggests and eventually relaxes into it.

Benrey's strangely quiet as he does it. Doesn't make any dumb quips. Doesn't start talking about video games or whatever. So Gordon doesn't feel inclined to break the silence, either. The meaner part of him insists that it's just because he doesn't want to set Benrey off on some dipshit tangent, but the truth is, it's kind of nice. The quiet. Even if it's bordering on surreal. All he can hear is the quiet sound of Benrey washing his skin, dipping his fingers into the water. His breathing, measured but heavy. And the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his chest.

The bath itself isn't half-bad, either. He didn't expect Benrey to be this... careful. Not a word Gordon really associates with the guy. But Benrey's fingers work his muscles in tight circles, slow and firm, washing off however many days of sweat and dirt and blood, and Gordon's finds himself melting a little. Letting his eyes drift shut.

He groans when Benrey works his thumb into his back just right, dislodging a knot in the muscle he wasn't even aware of until it was gone. "Oh my God, how did you do that," Gordon breathes.

> Oh. Oh.

> That noise was a... nice one. A pleasant one. One that makes Benrey hesitate for a second and lose his smile before quickly regaining it and pretending he'd never misplaced it in the first place. And he figures Gordon likely didn't notice--his human can't see without the glasses--so he says nothing as he dips his fingers yet again and massages into Gordon's shoulders, exploring every inch and feeling how bizarre every groove and curve is underneath the pad of his finger.

> It's odd, but not a bad odd. The kind of odd that requires further investigation because, while he's had his hands on Gordon before, this feels different. Better, even, in some ways. Motivated by equal parts curiosity and mounting desire, he continues to glide across Gordon's skin and work his muscles and feel them loosen and pause to take in the rapid thudding of Gordon's tiny, tiny pulse against his skin.

> Benrey swallows the Sweet Voice pooling in the back of his mouth. He gags. He coughs into his shoulder. His voice breaks a bit as his normally flat demeanor begins to falter amid a mob of intrusive thoughts that march right into his brain like little soldiers.

> "Can do it 'cause 'm not human. Got magic fingers. Call now. For $19.99, we'll throw in a second one free," Benrey recites, but his eyes are still looking for a hint of cock. But not just that--

> "Limited time offer. Supplies going fast. Better, uh, pick up that phone."

> -- his chest, bits of leg sticking out of the water, that pretty neck, that long hair--

> "Call in, uh, next fifteen minutes and I'll... uh..."

> --that stomach, slightly soft around the middle, and arms that were too strong for somebody of his persuasion--

> "Uh."

> -- every inch that HEV suit wouldn't let him see. Gordon would look so much better in something more... breezy. Clingy. Revealing.

> "Fuck," he says breathily. Something roils inside him, and a lot of it is unfortunately roiling below the belt. So much for subtlety. So much for "nice."

Benrey keeps scrubbing, keeps rubbing his sore muscles between thumbs and index fingers, and it takes a conscious effort for Gordon not to doze off. Even the prickling of fizzy bubbles against his skin fights an upward battle to keep him awake. It's just, he's been on the go for way too long, now, and days of tension are leaching out of him, and Benrey's, like, weirdly good at this. For once, Gordon doesn't have to be thinking about parallel universes and the end of the fucking world or whatever. Somebody else can do the thinking for him.

And then he starts rambling about magic fingers like he's hosting some kind of infomercial and Gordon's laugh comes easier and harder than it has any right to. But Benrey's trailing off now, distracted. Swearing under his breath. Gordon blinks open his eyes and glances up at him.

Despite his lack of glasses, Benrey's big enough (and close enough) that Gordon can make out most of his expression, even if it's fuzzy and indistinct. His mouth hangs open a little, and his brows are knotted up under the cast shadow of his helmet. Like he's thinking about something.

"Free shipping?" Gordon finishes his joke for him. Benrey must have lost his train of thought again. Gordon's mostly used to it... mostly.

He shrugs and rolls his shoulders from side to side, grunting and making small, quiet noises as he stretches. Man, that feels good. There must be something in the water, even if Benrey was, as usual, unhelpful as to what.

Finally, Gordon decides to tug out the band from his hair, spilling it loose over his shoulders. He snaps it around his wrist for safekeeping, then runs his hands through his hair to shake it out.

"Uh. While we're at it. Think you could get my hair later? Like, I don't know where you got the soap from, but I'm assuming you can just, like, magic up some conditioner or something, too."

> Benrey doesn't know how to tell Gordon he didn't actually have soaps. He said so, but he... he didn't. If not for Gordon pointing out that he could "magic" some up, he might have been really stuck, but with a quick shake of his head to bring himself back to his senses, his face lights up once more with a teasing smile and his tone eases back into his typical taunting monotone.

> "Uh. Yeahs. Soaps and, uh, condo-stuff. Got'cha."

> There is a flash of green as he lifts his hand above him (in a dramatic way that he hopes is as cool and impressive as it looks in his head), and feels something slimy manifest in his hands. Slimy and, well, scented like a Glade plug-in. Like flowers and "summer breezes" and things that are a lot more Earth-y than the Sweet Voice. It's a nice color, too, but one that doesn't match how he feels it should look, because it smells more like blue than it does white and...

> ... You know what? It doesn't matter.

> Benrey dips a fingertip in the soap like a child about to paint and, tongue poking out between his teeth once more, sets to work giving Gordon a once-over yet again. He hopes that maybe Gordon won't notice or point out the fact he hadn't even used soap in the first place, as distracted as he was, and just accept the fact that Benrey is once more rubbing his shoulders, his chest, his arms, his legs. Lifting up limbs and maneuvering them to get into hard-to-reach places. Pushing a little firmer than before to feel for that fluttering pulse.

> God, his own heart is beginning to match it beat for beat.

> "Yeah," Benrey mutters at long last as his tongue darts back into his mouth, "I can. Do that. Get your hair."

> His hair. His hair is so pretty when it's down, already having grown out after he cut it in the Bad Ending World. Silky and nice with bits of gray that make him look like he's as smart as he thinks he is--

> No, no. Nice. Nice. He is grappling with the idea of being nice!

> "Get your hair with, uh, real shit. Good shampoo. Actual soaps and stuff that ain't, uh, the stuff. Your stuff. Head and Shoulders. Make you look real good, real nice. Nice for m--uh."

> He pauses. He snaps his mouth shut. He pauses over Gordon's body and thinks for a moment. He wants to say it, he wants to tease and pick and make Gordon flush bright red and play their stupid goddamn game, but now isn't the time. He doesn't think so, at least? Maybe it is?

> Does Gordon think it is? He hopes so, but he doesn't know how to tell. And, apparently, humans didn't like it when their alien best friends played games they didn't want to play.

> "... Mandatory hair inspection," he recovers. "Black Mesa, uh, protocol. Already fucked up the passport. Don't... don't fuck up hair day."

Blood doesn't so much rush to Gordon's face as it crawls, moving as sluggishly as his mind does, processing this. He knows what Benrey was gonna say before he snapped his mouth shut like a mousetrap. Gordon swore he could even hear the teeth click.

Maybe he didn't actually say it, but Gordon's entire system reacts as though he has, because, fucking, he did! For all intents and purposes! A bright, prickling heat surges down his spine that has nothing to do with the water. Why does he talk like that?! Fucking cooing at him, like Benrey's taking some kind of sick pleasure in teasing him in the most embarrassing way possible... but that's about what Gordon expects at this point.

So why did he stop himself?

When Benrey marshals his voice into something more flat and toneless, Gordon frowns. He's... he's really trying, isn't he. Trying to do something decent without turning it into one of their fucked up little games. Some of the mental furniture rearranges itself in Gordon's head, pictures straightened and doorways unjammed.

Unfortunately, all the dusting and clearing in the world can't change the fact that the foundation in his head is wired to make him a paranoid little fucker. And Benrey's always playing some kind of 4th-dimensional chess with him, anyway, right? He's just being rational. Wary.

That said... he's already here. He might as well relax and deal with the consequences later. Especially when... oh.

Benrey's washing him in earnest, fingers pressing into him and manipulating him. They're all over him, probing him without direction, and now Gordon's not sure if "relaxed" is the best descriptor for himself. There's just, there's a lot of touching happening, and Benrey's hands are so, so big, and Gordon can just make out the tip of Benrey's tongue poking through his teeth and something about that intense focus - on him - makes Gordon's breathing go shallow.

Christ. He can't-- He shouldn't think about this. This is the kind of sick shit that only happens in his head, not in real life. Gordon's just a normal guy with something very wrong with him, and that "something" makes him more prone than most to awful little fantasies, intrusive thoughts.

That's all this is. There's gotta be something wrong with him to want somebody ten times his size to touch him like this, but in, like, a horny way. Like some kind of freakjob doing gross shit with an action figure. Maybe it doesn't make him a bad person. So long as he keeps it to himself. He'll keep all his weird little fantasies right next to his heart, and then he'll die. That's that.

It's almost over, Gordon tells himself furiously, willing his blood to stop rushing to his dick and his stomach to stop coiling with heat. If he can just focus, he can will his boner down before he has to get out of the pool and then Benrey will be none the wiser.

"Okay, first of all, I didn't fuck up the passport," Gordon blusters, in an attempt to power through it. "I never needed one before! If anything, I think you fucked up, man. Never told me about Black Mesa Picture Day or whatever."

> Benrey's fingers do not pause as Gordon fusses at him, but his eyes can't stay focused on his own work. He's too busy watching Gordon's throat bob as he swallows around a lump, or how his blush is darkening and spreading. He's gauging the look in his eyes, looking for any indication that he can go ahead and make it weird, but--even though he's sweating and nervous and fidgety and acting just like he does when they're playing--Benrey is too nervous to make a move.

> And "nervous" wasn't a part of his vocabulary until that Alyx lady and Gordon's own downhill slide made it obvious that he actually had to think human to interact with humans. His human specifically.

> So, even though he sees the signs, he decides to bite his tongue. It is foreign, it is uncomfortable, and it's almost painful to choke down. To redirect his alien brain into more terrestrial channels. To try to figure out what a human person would do in his situation and, barring that, just continuing to do what he was supposed to be doing in the first place.

> Bathing Gordon.

> "Shouldn't have to tell you. S'in the, ah, employee handbook. Welcome packet. Folder. Right next to Warhammer 401k and, uh, ensure-ants."

> He cups a small amount of water in his palm and trickles it over Gordon's body, watching it drain down his form in sparkling rivulets. They trace his contours, weaving into every nook and cranny and crease that Benrey couldn't reach, and he watches them with an intensity that even he can feel. A warmth in his gut, a twitch of his dick. His tongue laps at his lips like a hungry animal; he wants to lick every droplet off of Gordon and explore ever inch of him as thoroughly as the bathwater.

> But... no. No, no. He's normal. He's normal and human and he's being nice, and Gordon hasn't said anything so he's going to close his eyes, huff angrily, and then continue on his merry way.

> "Everyone knows about, uh, Hair Inspection Day. And Passport Inspection. You, ah, you're just... uh."

> Benrey breathes heavily out of his nose as his eyes lock on Gordon yet again. Staring up at him, red-faced. Hair now adhered to his skin from the water. Chest heaving. He reaches out in spite of himself and presses a fingertip to Gordon's torso once more, feeling that rapid pulse and feeling it rise and fall with each breath. Knowing he could make Gordon's heart race faster and really put his lungs to work.

> He wants to feel him pant, wants to hear each heavy breath accompanied with his name and...

> No. God, it's getting so fucking hard to resist the game, but Benrey is good! Good for his best friend! He's learned and he's going to stay good. He's just being nice. He can be nice without being--

> "Missed a spot," Benrey lies as he pulls his finger away. He pretends to rinse Gordon off once more and sputters a cough. "Now, let's get those, ah, locks. Clean and brushed. Shiny. Barbie Girl, Barbie World, am I right?"

Gordon ducks his head instinctively as Benrey douses him with water, shielding his face. There's a huff from above him, and then another, breath hot and heavy on Gordon's neck. The closest comparable experience is... it's like being trapped under some kind of big fucking animal. A bear, maybe, snorting at the nape of his neck before it decides to eat him. Violently.

Cool. He loves thoughts like that. A pleasant reminder that they don't exactly carry fucking risperidone in the aftermath of a fascist takeover.

He shakes his head again to rid himself of it, then looks at Benrey in surprise when he presses a fingertip to his chest. It just rests there, warm and steady. Not pulling or pinching or shoving or any of the things Gordon expects. Gears whir to life in his head. Benrey's being-- he's being kind of fucking weird, but not in the ways Gordon's grown accustomed to, and when he's spent the entirety of their working relationship trying to get his sea legs, it throws him off just as badly when the boat stops rocking.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but it's not just Barbies who have to wash their hair," Gordon snorts at him. "You got me all worried now, man, I don't even know if you know the basics. It's shampoo, then conditioner, okay?"

After a moment, he slicks his hair back out of his face, too. For good measure. "And try not to get it in my eyes, either... Actually, uh, I'm kind of having second thoughts about this. Maybe you should just let me handle it. No offense."

> "Know what I'm doin'. I got hair. Nice hair. Better than... uh, Mr. 2-in-1," Benrey protests, masking the sudden wave of panic that just roiled up inside of him. Just the idea of not touching Gordon is too much, and he inwardly crinkles at the thought of missing his chance to feel his human again. And again. And again. Petting and scrubbing and massaging and imagining what it would be like to get Gordon close enough to his face that he could taste him.

> But... he can't do that. He's not allowed. This isn't The Game. This is A Nice Favor for His Person and, well, he's got to be normal. And chill. And calm. And this is all really too fucking hard.

> However, as long as he plays by the rules, he still gets a chance to touch Gordon, and he supposes that is a small victory. It's what spurs him on to press his thighs together and shift his weight to hide his burgeoning boner behind the Xenian island so that Gordon can't be alarmed or scandalized or angry or accusatory. It's what prompts him to summon from the ether, yet again, a new supply of nice-smelling soaps and an equally pleasant conditioner that still don't match the color his brain tells him they should be.

> And, with fangs pressed into his bottom lip, he dips his finger into the shampoo freshly spawned in his palm and swirls it gently, watching as Gordon regards him with a mixture of curiosity and what he hopes isn't disdain. He's been working so hard to try to not make the guy angry, and he's struggling not to slip.

> Slowly, he drips a dollop of soap onto Gordon's head--towards the back, since he is honestly trying to obey the request not to blind him--followed by a few drops of glittering, warm water. He monitors the way Gordon's expression changes as he presses against his head as gently as he can and begins to work it into a lather.

> It's... nice. It's not the usual rough stuff and bullying he's used to, but there is something undeniably pleasant about watching Gordon melt into his touch as he works, careful and light, his body rocking with the movements in a way that makes Benrey feel both strangely aroused and, well... warm. As warm as the pool of water, all on the inside like a badly heated burrito. It's new, and uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, and he savors it by trying to make the moment stretch.

> From the scalp and downwards, until his finger is stroking the side of Gordon's cheek and reaching under his chin as if trying to tilt his head up for a kiss he was way too big to give. Like a true romantic that he knew, in his gut, he wasn't actually anywhere close to being. But it felt right, and the dazed and pleasant look in Gordon's eyes shatter the alien armor around his heart in one powerful blow.

> Benrey swallows hard and says nothing. He just scrubs and stares. And scrubs. And stares.

> Slow, precise, delicate circles. Enjoying the moment, and buying time as he tries to untangle this utterly alien knot of feelings that is twisting around in his gut. Feelings he isn't sure he understands or particularly wants, but addictive all the same.

"Oh, that's kinda nice, actually," Gordon mumbles distantly, as Benrey starts to lather up his hair.

It's impressive, honestly, just how delicate Benrey's capable of being when he puts his mind to it. The pressure's firm enough that it feels good against his scalp, but he's not being knocked around or given a headache or anything. It's... pleasant. His eyes drift shut again, now that he's pretty sure Benrey's got the hang of it.

That finger slips lower, lower, stroking the side of Gordon's jaw, and Gordon leans into it. Lets him work soap into the underside of his facial hair. (And that's nice, too. It's the kind of thing he figured Benrey would miss.) And if Benrey rubs a bit slower, tilts his head up just a little so that Gordon has to peer up at him through slowly-blinking eyes, well, he's not going to complain.

Benrey's eyes are so big, so close to his and so intently focused that-- that he's sweating a little, just visible at the edge of Gordon's vision. Gordon's heart beats faster, and a strange tension begins to wind itself tight in him. It's like Benrey's trying to scan him. All that attention focused directly on him gins up butterflies in his stomach.

Gordon's suddenly hit by the awareness that nobody's done anything like this for him in a long, long time. Maybe ever. And here he is, letting his frenemy (best frenemy, whispers an annoying little voice that sounds suspiciously like Benrey) scrub him clean. Take care of him. How in the fuck did he end up here? And, more importantly, why is he so comfortable with this? This is the guy who got his arm cut off, not, fucking, not his live-in girlfriend. That broke up with him a couple years ago, citing the fact that he was "a puffed-up MIT asshole". Whatever. Details.

After a long stretch of silence, Gordon breaks it by saying, "I, uh, I think that's good. Yeah. Lemme just..."

And he pushes Benrey's finger away before ducking his head under the water, hoping Benrey doesn't notice the way his voice cracks.

> It... almost feels like he's being spurned when his finger is pushed away. There's a quaver in Gordon's voice and he isn't sure if it's nerves or rejection. In an instant, a long-dormant part of Benrey's brain flares to life, leaving him mentally bouncing theories as to why his person had sounded so off. It could have been that he was having the same sorts of thoughts Benrey had been having the whole time, or it could have been that he had done something wrong. Getting advice on how to handle Gordon came with the unpredictable side effect of giving him a lot to worry about in terms of "boundaries" and "behaving," which he honestly wasn't comfortable or keen on dealing with.

> These insecurities melt away as he watches Gordon duck under the water, however. It creates a hiccup in the system, a blue screen that necessitates a reboot. There's something distracting about the way his back arches forward, muscles moving, head dipping beneath the surface. On his knees, ass lifting up slightly so he has a touch more leverage. Hair floating to the top, and then clinging tightly to his skin as he emerges with a gasp and throws his head back and slicks it out of his face and...

> ... His face is dripping. Sopping. Water trailing from his mouth and down his beard. Running down his temples, his cheeks. Like sweat. Like... something else.

> "Holy shit," Benrey mutters with the barest hint of voice. He pauses, he tries to think of something to say that would mask the fact he's not being "normal," and he's been playing The Game the whole time, regardless of what he's been telling himself. The hamster is running, the gears are whirring, but Windows is still updating and he's at a loss for anything better to say.

> So he doubles down. His voice grows louder.

> "Holy shit."

Gordon winches his eyes shut as he wipes water from them, slinging his hair back out of his face for good measure. God, he can feel how much less greasy it is now, and it's like taking off an itchy sweater for the first time. Makes him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, man, that's honestly really... uh..."

He slows to a stop, thrown off by Benrey muttering something. Almost inaudible. It gets him to crane his neck to look up at Benrey properly, about to ask, before Benrey says it again. Louder. Okay, yeah, he did catch that right the first time, huh.

Even though he's out of focus, Gordon can still see how wide his eyes are. How slack his face is. He doesn't need the finer details to notice Benrey's hand hovering in midair, like he's been interrupted in the middle of a thought. Staring at him like... like...

Heat crashes over Gordon in a violent wave, from the crown of his head to the pit of his belly. He's not even-- he's not even doing anything. He's sopping wet, and he can't fucking stand the way his hair looks when it's laying flat and slick against his head like this, and he can't exactly hide all the unseemly scars and and stretch marks and soft spots and all the other issues he's poked at in the mirror time and time again. (He had a growth spurt as a teenager, okay, and stretching him out an extra foot and a half so quickly didn't give his skin a lot of time to adapt.)

In short, he feels more naked and exposed now, half-covered by the foamy surface of this shallow pool, than he did when Benrey had him in his palm with his entire dick out. And it makes Gordon fucking throb under the surface of the water.

He's gotta be making fun of me, Gordon desperately tells himself. Defense mechanism. It's not working as well as it usually does, and he subconsciously presses his thighs tighter together.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, suddenly dry despite the water carding down his face.

"What," starts Gordon. But he doesn't know where to take that question, and it dies as quick as it came.

> Game over. It's done. Benrey's used his final life and lost it in a valiant attempt to beat the final boss, but now he's gawking down at Gordon who is gawking right back up at him with a tell-tale look on his face that makes Benrey almost positive that he's playing just as hard. His own breath quickens as once complicated thoughts congeal into something more comfortable, something more streamlined, something more natural.

> Something that Alyx would have been disappointed to hear, especially after how good he had been doing.

> He inhales sharply through his nose and leans in close, the air coming back out at a low laugh as his mouth twists into a hungry grin. A finger extends and he presses it against the side of Gordon's face, an almost loving stroke. He can feel a burst of heat in his cheeks and he knows, glasses or not, that Gordon can probably see how red he's getting. He shifts his legs as he floats beside the island, trying to accommodate a cock that is now frighteningly hard and twitching against his stomach.

> "What 'what?'" Benrey asks, his voice monotonous but still somehow teasing. "Can't a bro, uh, admire his bro? Have a look-see? Look nice. Pretty."

> His finger drops to the water and stirs it a bit, creating a roil of bubbles that send a pleasant, tingling sensation up his hand, his arm. It seems to travel straight to his heart, which is pounding furiously in his chest.

> "You, uh... you good? Need anymore help? Getting clean? Hard to reach places?"

> A pause. He feels his stomach twist into knots. This has never really happened before while playing this game, but it's powerful. Makes him feel desperate. Needy. Makes him feel guilty and he hates it because he never feels guilty.

> As quickly as the mask breaks, he picks up the pieces and puts them back together. He slides it back on. He takes a deep breath, fumbling with his words.

> "Want to, uh... pla... pretty? Want to pretty? Want best friend Benrey to make you, uh, cleaner? Prettier? Help you? Please? Thank-you."

Two paths emerge before Gordon. On the one, well-worn and well-lit, he would tell Benrey, "No thanks, I'm good," and he would tell Benrey to turn around so he can dry off and crawl back into the jumpsuit. And then he would let Benrey fit him in the armor again, trying his best to ignore those fingers on his skin, and later he would duck away and jerk himself raw thinking about it. Swearing at himself. Wishing he could be normal for once in his fucking life and not develop questionable new fantasies about the one guy who's as out of place in this world as he is.

On the other, bracketed by brambles and dark, uncharted woods, Gordon would... He would...

He'd get it through his head that he's not the only little fucking weirdo in this relationship. That Benrey keeps staring at him like that for a reason.

And that Benrey's trying so fucking hard to play nice because... well... Gordon hasn't wrapped his head around that one yet, but he has his suspicions. Some of them more worrying than others. But the point is, Benrey's not taking the bait. He's got Gordon in a highly vulnerable position, and he could be pushing Gordon around if he wanted, playing their little game and driving him up the wall.

But he isn't. He keeps choking it back. It's unsettling. Gordon doesn't know how to handle it. He kind of wishes, in the back of his mind, that Benrey would tack on his 'schoolyard bully' demeanor again. At least that Gordon understands on some level. Push, pull, tussle.

And most unsettling of all is that downright tender way that Benrey drags a finger along his cheek. Anxiety thrums to life in Gordon's blood. No, no, that's not-- This is weird. This is so weird. There's something roiling and ugly churning in his stomach, and he doesn't like it one bit. He's not coping with it, he needs to-- to wrangle this situation, get some control over it, steer it back to familiar territory.

And in doing so, Gordon floors it directly into the woods.

He looks back at Benrey, taking in the hot flush crawling up his skin. The awkward shifting. I'm not the only freak here, Gordon reminds himself, blood pounding in his ears.

So he shifts himself. Sits back, draws his legs up so that his knees peek out of the water. Lets them fall to the sides, just a little. And he says, tucking a strand of wet hair behind his ear,

"What, and you're not even gonna-- That's some low-hanging fruit you're leaving on the vine. Startin' to get worried about you, man. You haven't gone this long without making fun of me in... uh, ever."

> Wait. Was that...?

> Was that admission?

> Benrey's pupils grow wide at the words, and his smile threatens to falter as he feels the cogs creaking inside of his head. Connecting the dots with all the newfound information he has on human people is like doing the advanced science stuff Gordon seemed to believe he was so special for knowing. There's emotional equations, rechecking the data, counter-arguments for every theory he comes up with, but in the end a little lightbulb flickers to life. The lights are on, somebody is home, and by god does that somebody want to play ball already.

> Benrey's finger stills on Gordon's cheek and he feels an uncharacteristic lump grow in his throat as his face grows redder and sweat beads at his brow. That weird emotion that once wrapped itself around its siblings, Worry and Guilt, finally cut itself loose and tangles itself in his stomach. He doesn't like it--it's too warm, and it's not the horny kind of heat that he's used to--but he allows it to stay. It feels like it may turn into something good if he just lets it incubate.

> "Uh, what? Not gonna... huh?"

> Benrey's voice cracks just like Gordon's had a moment before. He pretends it never happened and seamlessly continues.

> "Not gonna, ah, make fun of you. Gonna... gonna pick that fruit, though."

> His finger trails down Gordon's chin, down his neck, across his shoulders, down his chest. It rests dangerously low on his belly, threatening to dip lower. He grins at Gordon, leans in close, and huffs a laugh that's less malicious than it is honestly amused with its own cleverness.

> "Uh, get it? Fruit? Picked? You're, ah, you're the fruit, bro."

> A pause.

> "Laugh, please."

Gordon swallows, hard. The implications hit him like a bowling ball. That somebody's dropping on him. Maybe from an overpass or something. He's spinning out a little, alright, and losing his grip on the metaphor.

Benrey's fingertip leaves goosebumps in its wake, and his breathing goes shallow as the nail lightly catches on the crook of his neck. Lower, lower, slipping just below the surface of the water to rest on his belly, and Gordon thanks every deity he can imagine (and some he can't) that the bubbles hide... well. This, feeling it throb where it lies heavy against his hip.

Despite himself, he does actually laugh when Benrey prompts it. It comes out high and way louder than he intended, but still. Now that's a metaphor he's got a good grasp on, he thinks wildly. Oh, Christ.

"That's-- that's not really what I meant," Gordon tries to argue, but not with very much conviction. "But, uh, ha ha! Great joke! Fucking love jokes, man!"

> Benrey doesn't really hear what Gordon is saying. He does know that tone, though, from times they've played The Game before. It's a tone that speaks of permission, a sort of polite denial without the force. The kind of arguing that Benrey knows he can get away with ignoring because it's not sincere. Game talk. A challenge.

> Their own secret language of want.

> "Thank-you," Benrey purrs when Gordon forces a laugh, and his finger rubs a slow, slow circle into Gordon's stomach. He's sure Gordon notices when it bumps a bit too low, because he can feel something tell-tale just beneath the surface of the water. His grin grows at the realization that he was on the right track, tongue slipping out from between his teeth and running along his lips. A show, given to Gordon.

> A show he desperately wants Gordon to notice is meant for him. A tech demo. A promise.

> "But, uh... if that ain't what you meant. What did you mean? 'Cause you seem to be enjoyin' this, best friend."

A noise threatens to burst from Gordon's chest when Benrey starts to rub, slow and insistent, and grazes against-- Oh, God. But he clamps his lips tight, and all that escapes him is a harsh puff of air through his nose. He knows now, he knows, and it's written all over his face, a raised eyebrow and a smug smile and the slow, deliberate movement of his tongue over his lower lip.

It's fucking cartoonish, is what it is. Gordon should laugh. Gordon does laugh, again, another nervous little titter that doesn't communicate "amusement" so much as "flustered hysteria".

"I don't know," he blurts out, and it's the most honest thing he's said all day. "Fucking, God, I'm not-- This isn't what it looks like, okay, you just-- you keep looking at me like that, and I don't know what your fucking game is, man!"

He can't look at Benrey, not right now, not when he knows Benrey's looking at him like that, and so he looks down and oh, no, that's a bad idea. Because Benrey's still drawing tight little circles into his skin, unnervingly gentle. And so Gordon's eyes keep darting around, finding nowhere suitable to land.

At least Benrey's taking the bait. He's not doing that weird sappy shit anymore, and Gordon's in more familiar territory: the push and pull. The teasing. So he pulls harder, in hopes that Benrey will knock it off for good.

"If anybody's 'enjoying this', it's you, buddy! I'm just a, uh, innocent bystander, you know?"

> He doesn't sound convincing. There's fractures in his voice, and his words are stumbling like they fell down the stairs. He's looking everywhere but at Benrey, his face red and his eyes nervously darting from thing to thing to thing. But, in the end, they always come back to him, in one way or another.

> It's tells like this that let Benrey know that he's playing. The Game is afoot, he's been given the go-ahead. It's time to take the ball and run.

> "Uh-huh. Sure. Innocent. Lessee what you're hidin', bro."

> And with that, Benrey removes his finger from Gordon's stomach, instead parting his fingers into a V-shape and hooking Gordon underneath his arms. It's like a claw in a skill crane and, with a snort, he lifts Gordon out of the water. Naked, wet, and standing at attention from the looks of it; his human apparently had been playing along a lot longer than Benrey knew. He watches Gordon dangling a few feet from the pool at the end of his hand and smirks.

> But there's something different now, isn't there? Something Benrey sees in his human that makes that weird feeling he's been fighting twirl and twist. He's barely even noticing Gordon's boner more than he's looking at the way his hair is clinging to his face, and the way his eyes are flicking up at him expectantly, and how warm and small and cute he looks. He looks delicate and handsome and he wants to touch him, but he wants to touch all of him, and his heart is thumping so hard he starts to worry because... fuck. Is he dying? Is Gordon killing him just by being cute?

> Benrey swallows hard. He hopes his expression didn't falter. He broadens his grin in case it did, until the muscles in his cheeks honestly hurt. And he inhales deeply and forces a mocking laugh and squeezes his fingers around Gordon gently in an attempt to further mock him.

> "I 'unno, bro. Looks like you're, uh... you're carrying without a permit. That's... uh, an infract... fracta... infection. You're a bad boy, aren't'cha?"

Gordon yelps as those fingers hook under his arms and drag him out of the water. Oh, God, his legs are kicking out from underneath him, and his hands scrabble at Benrey's, and Benrey's just smirking at him all up close and personal and he's fucked, he's really, really fucked. His fucking dick bobs in the air like-- like-- he doesn't know, he doesn't have a simile for this! Gordon's never been in this situation before! But bob it does, until he comes to a stop right in front of Benrey's face.

"It's infraction, dude!" Gordon snaps, his mind jumping to the least important thing Benrey said. "Fucking 'infraction'! And I don't-- I don't know what you expect when you're all, fucking--"

He's cut off by a gasp when Benrey squeezes him, just a little. Makes Gordon keenly aware of those big fingers. He can just... he can do whatever he fucking wants, huh? Pick Gordon up like it's nothing? Wrap those fingers around him, so big and hot and rough against his skin, and move all his limbs around just like he was doing earlier and--

And--

Gordon blinks, coming back to himself. Face hot. Mouth dry. And Benrey's grin looks impossibly wider.

"You know," he finishes weakly.

> "Maybe I do," Benrey responds, jostling Gordon lightly. "Maybe I don't. Maybe you should tell me, bro. When I'm all fuckin' what?"

> He lifts Gordon higher, and closer. Really gets a good look at him, leaning in and running his tongue along his jagged teeth. Like a predator, like something that wants to swallow Gordon whole, though that's the last thing on his mind. He wants to taste Gordon, that's for sure, but there's... there's more to it.

> He wants to reel him in. Follow this weird feeling. Press his lips against Gordon and--

> Benrey inhales sharply through his nose. Gordon smells positively delicious. Like something fruity and sweet and earthly. And he looks delicious, too, all soft and supple and soaked to the bone, smooth skin glistening in the alien lights.

> His dick twitches, straining against his pants. He's so hard it hurts. He wonders if Gordon can see, but can't imagine he can miss it.

> "C'mon," he teases, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Tell me what I am, bro. Tell best friend Benrey what's on your mind. Bonding experience. Bros being bros."

He wrenches his eyes shut, breath coming harder and faster despite his efforts to control it. When Benrey fucking talks like that, he can't help it, okay? All-- all smug and condescending and all the shit that should get under his skin-- and does, yeah, it drives him up the wall, but. But. There must be something wrong with him, Gordon thinks desperately. Something warped in the fabric of his mind that makes a shiver race down his spine.

Then he feels warm breath puffing against his face, and he opens his eyes again. Just in time to see a broad tongue run across sharp, sharp teeth. A naked suggestion. Gordon's mouth falls open a little and hangs there, stunned speechless.

Until Benrey mutters, c'mooon, voice low and heated in a way that goes straight to Gordon's belly. And his dick twitches in the open air, fully visible this time. Fuck.

"You're," he starts, staring at his own fingertips, where they're digging into Benrey's hand.

God, this is humiliating! And he should, he should tell Benrey to fuck off and put him down, but he doesn't. That same warp in his fabric goes all the way down to his autonomic nervous system. Heart racing, blood pumping, pupils dilating and sweat beading and every other unconscious reaction he can't wrangle into submission.

Because he wants to be wrangled into submission.

Okay, Christ! He gets it! He doesn't need the color commentary from his own fucking brain!

Gordon takes a deep breath to steel himself, and then he starts again, choked and hesitant, "When you're... God, fucking, touching me and breathing on me and shit, man! Like you'd be doing any better if you had somebody's big fucking hands all over you! Okay?"

As soon as the words leave him, a fresh wave of embarrassment crests and crashes over him. Stupid, stupid, he shouldn't have said it.

> Oh. Well. That was new. Usually, there's a bit more arguing, a bit more resistance, a bit more of Benrey getting called things like "weirdo" and "freak" before they have a good "haha" about it and touch dicks. But Gordon is being so earnest and honest and talking about how he's touching him, about big hands, about doing this same thing to Benrey (sort of talking about it, anyway), and...

> ... And Benrey feels... wanted? Was that the word? Wanted?

> Yeah. He feels wanted.

> And that foreign, alien, hot-cold emotion twisting inside of him balloons and explodes, and there is a sudden, pulse-pounding sensation of want and warmth that courses through his body like a poison. He can feel drool pooling under his tongue and he swallows hard, his smile fading into something more earnest as he tries to maintain a mocking, bullying stare. Tries to keep his head in the game.

> Their game.

> "Oh. You, uh. You like it when I breathe on you? Fuckin'... secret alien power. Uh, blow dryer." He pauses and chuckles. "Heh. Blow."

> He inches Gordon closer to his face, and the closer he brings him, the more he can feel the little bit of warmth radiating off of him. Welcoming him. Blazing hot, like he is on the inside, and flushed so red he looked burned. And that warm, weird, unwelcome emotion surges again as he lets out a sigh and sits Gordon in his palm, plopping him down unceremoniously like a captured bug.

> Only he's not watching him with a childlike curiosity. He's really examining him, trying to wiggle the wrench out of the gears in his brain. With some effort, he pops it loose, and the words pour out of his mouth without any restraint.

> "Bet'cha you'd like it if I, uh... dried you off. Gentle breeze. Pick a scent. Have eight exciting flavors. Blue. Watermelon. Other blue. Tropical, uh, kiss."

> Even he isn't sure why he stressed that last word. The weird emotion spoke for him.

> His mouth snaps shut.

> Awkward.

Whatever Gordon was expecting, it wasn't "being dropped buck-naked onto Benrey's palm". His legs splay out in front of him, and he instinctively tries to draw his knees up. Doesn't change the fact that he's got his boner out in front of God and everybody.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Despite himself, he bursts out laughing. He does his best to choke it back down. "You really, uh, gotta work on your dirty talk, man."

Gordon doesn't manage to catch himself before he all but admits that, yeah, that was dirty talk. This is a situation where Benrey should be trying to talk dirty to him. It's breaking the rules a little. Breaking kayfabe. But it's hard to resist bringing it up when Benrey's trying to get him hot by talking about blowing on him like a spoonful of soup.

Then he actually thinks about what Benrey said. Tropical kiss. That's not-- that's not anything. That's not real. Benrey's just talking about kissing him, in whatever weird fucking roundabout way he usually does. A small part of him softens. It's... almost cute. If he were inclined to ever describe Benrey that way. Which he isn't.

But Gordon plays along anyway. "What are you talking about? Scents? Dude, I smelled your breath earlier, and lemme tell you, it wasn't any kind of fucking tropical kiss."

> "Uh, no. S'one of the other flavors," Benrey responds indignantly, façade breaking for a moment. "That flavor was, uh... Glade Plug-in."

> As he speaks, he reels Gordon in closer, sitting in his palm and still sopping wet. He looks so small, so delicate, so... cute, and the thought makes his heart flutter again. It grabs his tongue and twists it into an awkward knot that takes a moment to untie. He works fast, hoping to save face. Get back in the game.

> But it's hard. Harder than before, and as Gordon stares at him expectantly, he's suddenly floundering. While he is externally stiff, flat, and monotonous, on the inside he is scrambling to pick up his scattered index cards during a speech. He wants to play, but he wants to taste. He wants to stroke Gordon's head as much as his dick and he doesn't know why. He wants to say something naughty and nice all at the same time and...

> "Lemme, uh. Demo. Demon-stray-shun," Benrey says, interrupting his own thoughts. "Tropical kiss. Free sample. Here we go."

> And with that, he brings Gordon to his mouth. He presses the smaller man into his lips, a small and chaste kiss being planted in the first place he can reach: Gordon's throat. Only it's... not just his throat. It's basically his whole shoulder, and throat, and beneath his jaw. He practically envelops him, could literally swallow him if he wanted to, but pulls away and snorts a laugh as though this spontaneous act was premeditated as a joke.

> He sounds unconvincing.

> Even more so when he chuckles, "See? Coconut. Sea breeze. Lime. Seagulls. All the classic smells."

Lips press against Gordon's skin before he's fully prepared for it, and he lets out a surprised little sound. Jaw and throat alike find themselves enveloped, a heat and softness and moisture the likes of which he's never felt quite like this. And then it's over. Gordon's still left dizzily processing this as Benrey draws back.

"Did you just kiss me?" Gordon asks, stupidly. He touches a hand to his jaw, where there's a hint of moisture lingering.

The longer Gordon thinks about it, the more disoriented he becomes. Benrey's never kissed him like that before. All, fucking, sweet and tender. Those aren't words in his vocab. Like, yeah, sure, they've kissed before, but only in frantic, snarling bursts. This is strange and new.

But... at the same time... that's not all it is, is it. At this scale, chasteness is impossible. Gordon's so small in his hand, wet and splayed like some kind of foal, and those hands could wrap around every inch of him at once just to touch him. Lips, kissing wide swathes of skin. Hot breaths of air forced through Benrey's nose and spurring the hairs on the back of Gordon's neck to stand up. The unpleasant realization that Benrey is very, very big, and could probably just swallow Gordon whole if he so chose. You know. Normal things to worry about.

But he doesn't. He just lets Gordon go with a kiss. And Gordon flushes up to his ears, still a little dumbstruck.

> That was... new. That wasn't like the lust-fueled, rushed kisses he'd given Gordon while trying to get fingers around his cock, but it wasn't bad. It was something that scratched an itch he didn't know he had, something that made his lips tingle, something that milked an incredibly good feeling out of that foreign emotion swirling inside of him. It's intoxicating in a way human substances never could quite pull off, and Benrey feels an addiction already forming.

> It takes him a moment to realize that Gordon has spoken. It's just a tiny sound to his colossal ears, one he nearly misses from the full-body throb of lust and affection. It's not just his dick anymore. His heart is thundering against every bone, every inch of skin, and he feels almost overwhelmed. Again, like he's dying. This is new, it's intense.

> He wets his lips and furrows his brow, and with a surprising amount of clarity, rattles, "Yeah... uh. I guess I did, huh?"

> His tongue continues to run over his lips. His teeth. His eyes dart to Gordon. He's struggling to play the game properly, but there's a sudden bout of nerves involved. He can't help but wonder if this is how Gordon feels all the time, and the realization clonks him like a clawhammer.

> If this is how Gordon feels all the time, then no wonder he's always such a mess. It's latching onto his jaw and holding it shut like an invisible muzzle, it's pumping him full of drugs that don't exist, it's making him feel small despite being absolutely batshit levels of huge. And, it feels like he's learning... god, what had Alyx called it? Empathy? He's not sure how much he likes it, but it mingles well with the now-welcome warmth following the kiss in a way that feels positively, cathartically self-destructive.

> Benrey coughs. He doesn't laugh. He doesn't tease. He looks to Gordon with an intensity even he's surprised he can pull off.

> "You, uh. Like it? Wan' another one? I got, uh, plenty. Warehouses full. Best Friend Special. BOGO."

Gordon watches Benrey's tongue slide over his teeth like it's in slow motion, a reminder of what lies just underneath the surface. And he freezes under the intensity of Benrey's stare, anticipatory sweat beading on his forehead.

"What, you mean you want to..." He trails off with a nervous laugh. "C'mon, man, put me down! I know you get a kick out of, fucking, making fun of me or whatever, but I don't know what you're getting out of this!"

> Unfortunately, Benrey knows exactly what he was getting out of this. A feeling, strong and tingly that's now full of a primal need that he understands quite a bit better. And, beyond that, he was getting permission. Full permission in every movement Gordon made, every lilt of his voice, every glance up at him that was filled with a hunger that his human never got quite got the hang of voicing. It's a look that Benrey knows good and well, though, from the other time they've played their little games.

> He says nothing. He just smiles, moves Gordon to his mouth again, and pushes his lips gently against his collar bone, though it stretches down to his chest. He can feel Gordon's nipple brush against the corner of his lip, hair brushing against his mouth, the taste of the strange, glittering water and skin as he parts his lips and rumbles a laugh into Gordon.

> He pulls away. He maneuvers his human. He presses his mouth against him again, brushing his stomach with a feather-light kiss that nearly encompasses his dick. He can feel it pressing against him, feel it twitch as he pokes a tongue out between his teeth and presses the very tip into his soft flesh.

> His eyes angle up to Gordon's in a silent bid for a sign. The lick intensifies, nimbly avoiding the cock poking at the very corner of his mouth.

> He continues to say nothing. He has a feeling he doesn't have to. Gordon isn't the only one who can get away with communicating silent intent in their back-and-forth.

Of course Benrey's not gonna answer him. Of course Benrey's just gonna grin at him - like an asshole - and kiss him again, lips soft against his chest. Right over his heart. It's cartoonish, is what it is. And, unfortunately, it's also more ticklish than Gordon expects, and he snorts aloud.

"What are you doing? You're being weird, dude."

When Benrey laughs back at him, his huffed breath ruffles Gordon's body hair, and it just makes that whole "sensitivity" problem worse. Gordon tries to choke down a giggle and fails. Despite himself, it's... it's nice. He almost feels light-headed.

And then Benrey's doing it again, a soft kiss against his middle, shifting him bodily into position, and Gordon laughs again, shoving at his face. Playful. Roughhousing. Their usual.

And again. "That-- That tickles, man, c'mon!"

And again, hot against his belly. Mouth parted. Benrey's chin grazes his dick, which he'd all but forgotten about in his reflexive urge to kick Benrey away. A peal of laughter bleeds into a gasp. All the worse when Gordon feels the wet-hot tip of a tongue push into his skin.

Oh God. It feels just like he thought it would. In that dream, that fucking dream, the one he can't get out of his mind. The one that's made Gordon look twice every time Benrey grins at him, teeth sharp and glossy. He freezes, afraid even to breathe too heavily and press himself all the more against Benrey's tongue.

"What are you doing," he asks again, this time less of a playful rebuff and more of a high squeak. Then it's hotter, wetter, more of the broad side of Benrey's tongue flattening against him, and his dick twitches, hard.

Fuck.

> Alyx would be disappointed, Benrey thinks. He was doing so good and playing so nice, and now he's licking a hot, wet stripe across Gordon's belly, feeling the hairs and skin against his tongue, teeth barely grazing against sensitive flesh. But, he knows things she doesn't and will never know, about the game and the language that he and Gordon have built. He squeaks in defiance, but with a tone that shows only polite refusal: Oh, I couldn't possibly, but if you insist.

> Gordon isn't pressing against his face. He isn't pushing him away. He isn't snarling and cursing, and he hasn't made any move to extricate himself. He's parting his legs invitingly, his voice is getting higher in want and anticipation, and his dick is so hard. As hard as Benrey's, to be honest, and twitching almost as if its beckoning.

> "What'm I doing?" Benrey purrs, and he can see Gordon's body tremble at the way it rumbles through him. "M'helpin'. S'what best friends do."

> With that, his jaw opens wide, his tongue slithering out and the tip dipping lower. Low enough to catch his cock, his legs, the entire bottom of his stomach. It presses hard against Gordon and then creeps upward before coiling up politely behind Benrey's jagged smile. Drool pools at the corner of his lips and he swipes it away with his spare hand.

> He opens his mouth and dives back in again, the faintest hint of flesh and salt and soap and glittering, sweet Xen water dancing across his tongue. It fills him with another burst of primal want, though it's watching the flush on Gordon grow deeper that satiates that other, newer beast nesting inside of him.

Hot, wet, sinuous, pressing against his belly like a snake, making him gasp and jerk instinctively - Gordon's head spins on contact. And Benrey's eyes keep flicking up to meet his, like he's gauging Gordon's reaction. Looking for the go-ahead. Like-- Like they haven't been playing this fucking game for hours, glorified foreplay, you know, like he hadn't let Benrey practically feel him up behind the bleachers while he was (is) stripped down to nothing.

When Gordon's legs jerk open, though, he doesn't snap them closed again. He lets them fall open, leaving room for Benrey's face. If he wanted. To put his face anywhere around there. It's embarrassing as soon as the thought hits his conscious mind, and Gordon burns a bright red down to his shoulders.

"I-I don't know if this is what every 'best friend' is supposed to d-- oh-- oh God, Benrey--"

His voice pitches up, raw and hoarse, as Benrey's tongue flattens itself against his thighs and dick. No more games. Just what this was always building up to, this whole time, if Gordon had just paid a little more attention, pushed his glasses back up on his nose and seen the hunger in Benrey's eyes. And the full knowledge of it cracks over his skull like an egg.

His chest heaves desperately to catch his breath, but it's so much, he can't--

He can't--

Benrey's going back for more, licking him in slow, deliberate strokes and chuffing like a big cat against him, and Gordon can't fucking think. His hands clench at Benrey's, then, finding that inadequate, at his own face. His hair.

"Benrey," he chokes out again. "You're gonna-- oh-- you just gave me a bath and you're gonna get me all fuckin' nasty again, man!"

It comes out as a whine that belies just how fucking stupid he sounds.

> "I'll, uh, just bathe you again. No biggie."

> Benrey's voice is low, dismissive. There is a dark and teasing chuckle hidden just under the surface, as much of a predator as the rest of him. Waiting for a moment to strike, to snag his prey and drag it beneath the surface. But not now, not now.

> Benrey likes to play with his food.

> His alien tongue is strangely dexterous, encircling Gordon's thighs and tracing wet lines into the crease where they met his body. Faint trails of Sweet Voice-tainted saliva leave visible marks of where he's been, allowing Gordon to ogle at exactly when Benrey is doing to him even after he's moved on. Even after he's moved from one leg to the other, to his belly, to his cock.

> His own aches as he flattens his tongue against his dick and licks upwards, like an animal lapping water. His tongue curls delicately and folds back into his mouth, scraping against pointed teeth before emerging again. Hungry, tasting, teasing and growing faster, more deliberate. The taste of Gordon swirl in his mouth and he feels a heat building in his belly so hot and dangerous that it almost makes him feel ill.

> And it intensifies with every squeak Gordon makes, every pant that falls out of his mouth. It drives him onward, a leopard on the prowl, gradually cornering its next meal. His own breath is becoming ragged, his mind a messy whorl of emotions and thoughts that make time seem as though it hardly matters. He's long forgotten how long he's been teasing, eyes nearly crossed to focus on Gordon. Benrey has long been lost in the sounds he makes, the way he writhes.

> It's almost like divine inspiration when it strikes him that he should maybe push him a bit harder.

> Delicately, and uncharacteristically slow, he rolls his tongue back into his mouth. He parts his lips and fits them around Gordon's length. He can't suck, not at this size, but he hums in satisfaction, the vibrations pulsing straight from him and into his human.

> If he wasn't so afraid of doing damage, he'd have smiled.

"We don't have time to--" Gordon breaks off in a moan, that compulsive need to worry stopped in its tracks by Benrey's tongue.

He shivers from his neck down to his toes when it worms around his thighs, digging into those sensitive creases in his skin. Something like a laugh bubbles out of him, but it's also something like a whimper, with a hint of a plea.

"You can't," he gasps, fighting for breath, "you can't do this to me, man, you don't even-- ah! Fuck! Don't even know!"

Gordon turns his face to the side and buries a noise into Benrey's hand. Makes it easier to cope when Benrey licks up to his chest and swirls his tongue, his own breath loud and hot around it. Tasting everywhere he can get to. Benrey just keeps going, salivating and groaning for the sheer thrill of it, and it makes heat pulse off Gordon's skin in waves.

Faster, harder, enveloping him in ways he had only dreamed possible, something only he can do - Benrey - just for him, he doesn't do this shit with anyone else, how could he. Gordon squirms and gasps in his grip, legs straining to arch into that wet heat.

Agony creeps into his voice, low and haggard. "Benrey," he whines, "how are you so fucking... good at this, why are you even--"

He doesn't get to finish that thought before Benrey's lips wrap around him, and he hums, smug as a cat that's gotten the cream, and Gordon cries out so hard that some winged thing bursts out from a nearby outcropping. How is-- Why is he-- what does he even get out of this, he thinks wildly, brain desperately clinging to neuroticism even in the face of sexual obliteration.

> Every time Gordon shifts his weight, whines, looks away, says a word, Benrey feels that warm, weird emotion surge through him in a way that defies explanation. A feeling he thinks he can now identify, but is hesitant to verbalize, lest he somehow break the rules. But, it's so much stronger than before, especially after everything they'd been through, especially with the way Gordon is finally saying what he really means. Instead of snapping that he's being weird, he's whimpering praise and the words hang crookedly in his head like paintings in a forgotten room.

> "Benrey, how are you so fucking... good at this?"

> The boner he'd been ignoring for what seemed like millennia is now aching, and he pushes his hips against the side of the island and grinds upwards in hopes of finding something resembling relief. Unsurprisingly, what he finds is a crotch full of rocks, and he winces even as he continues to lavish Gordon with attention, breath hot out of his nose as he continues to hum and mouth at his dick. As he unfurls his tongue once more and presses it against his entire body and pushes Gordon against the palm of his hand, something akin to a wet hug. As the tip once again finds Gordon's cock and greedily laps at it, mesmerized by how prominent it is compared to the rest of his soft body.

> There is no give. Just hardness, sinking into the sensitive muscle.

> As he continues on--gently sucking on entire hands, tracing circles into the wet skin of his stomach, tasting the inside of his thighs while grazing his junk with the side of his tongue--he grunts. He feels his hips rocking just out of Gordon's sight. He clenches his free hand when its not in use pulling Gordon's legs apart for easier access or fiddling with his arm to get access to his fingers.

> It's instinctual, and impossible to ignore. He aches, and he knows Gordon can see he's losing himself to this as much as his prey.

> He waits to see if Gordon will have anything to say about it.

Gordon grabs desperately at Benrey's face, a nasal noise forced out of him on every exhale. It's more than a blowjob, it's, it's Benrey humming through his entire fucking body, okay? He can feel it down to his bones, and the inside of Benrey's mouth is achingly warm and so, so wet, and Benrey just keeps mouthing at him, tongue unfurling behind his teeth to lap up Gordon's length in a hot stripe.

It's... it's good. It's so good. Gordon closes his eyes tight and moans aloud.

Benrey moans, too, as his lips part from Gordon's dick to envelop his fingers instead. He pants through his nose and shuffles awkwardly, and the uncomfortable motion gets Gordon to open his eyes again. And he really looks, this time.

Oh.

He's hard.

Benrey's hard, and he's rocking his hips forward into the barren earth. And he's got his hands on Gordon instead of himself. Thumbing his chest and spreading him open. The burden of that knowledge makes Gordon pant like a dog.

"Oh my God," he warbles, voice cracking as Benrey draws patterns into his stomach with his tongue, "are you-- are you not gonna--"

Gordon slaps his hands over his mouth, suddenly regretting his words. No, he's not going to ask if Benrey's gonna touch his own dick, Jesus Christ. That's none of his business. What does he even care, anyway. It's not like he wants to see it. Not like he's curious about how big it would look once Benrey whipped it out. Gordon's aware of the general, you know, size and girth, proportionally, but it looks so much bigger down there, even in the confines of his work pants. It's not really fair.

And then Benrey grunts against him and flicks the tip of his tongue against his dick even faster, and Gordon can't stop the agonized whine that forces its way out of him.

> Benrey's tongue rolls up Gordon's body yet again, and again, and again. It envelops his dick, his thighs, his stomach, and everything in between. He watches, he waits, and eventually he hears Gordon's voice small and broken from his palm. It is enough to make him recoil, to open the floodgates in his mind. That warm feeling floods the inside of his skull and drowns out every thought out but lust, who is gasping for air defiantly.

> "Huh?"

> Benrey pauses, looking down at Gordon--soaked and slimy and oh-so-small--laying with his legs parted, his face flushed, his eyes locked on the very prominent erection straining against his pants. His own trail down to it and he smirks as the weight of Gordon's almost-question hits him.

> "Oh... huh? Wha? Touch myself? Is, uh, is that what you were gonna say?"

> He leans down over Gordon, tongue sticking out between sharp teeth but frustratingly distant from his body. The hand he'd once used to manhandle his human pulled away, fingers slipping into his waistband behind his belt. He sneers, but there is no actual malice behind it. Feigned mockery, just to make Gordon grow brighter. Redder.

> "You... seem to like the idea. You, uh. You... you wanna see? That what you want? Wanna see best friend Benrey's massive hog? Wanna... wanna touch it?"

> A pause, a laugh.

> "Want me to touch it? Seems you like the idea. I can do it. Just, uh, gotta say so."

Gordon mumbles a quiet plea into his hands, begging for some higher power to-- to do something. He doesn't know what. All he knows is that Benrey's sticking his tongue between his teeth, now, looking at him as if he's some problem to be solved or some piece of furniture to wrangle into place. Instead of keeping that tongue right where he had it. Gordon squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath through his nose. He's not disappointed, actually. That would involve caring about what Benrey was doing at all. Which he doesn't.

"You can... you can do whatever you want, man. It's your life," he says, not meeting Benrey's eyes.

Not like he wants to... oh, God. That's Benrey's hand in his pants, isn't it? Slipping under the waistband before Gordon’s even finished his sentence. A sound escapes him that he really wishes wouldn't. He’s really into this, huh, Gordon thinks distantly, just as surprised by the realization as he has been all the previous times he’s figured out that, yes, Benrey actually is pretty hot for him. Like he’s still waiting for the Band-Aid to be ripped off, even now. Even after Benrey’s sucked his dick in a fucking dumpster. (You take what you can get.)

And-- And there it is, huh. Larger than life. Gordon swallows, a little intimidated. Then he wants to curse himself out for feeling intimidated by Benrey’s dick. Freud would have a field day with him.

#writin stuff #please clap.

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nexyra · 4 years ago

Text

RWBY's Love Language - Part 2

Hello friend ! I'm back at it with a second part and whatever character I can think of ! (Among which best boy Oscar because he deserves it, and also more adults)

Let's go !

***

Oscar Pine

So ! While I love Oscar with my whole heart, honestly guessing his Love Language is no easy feat. One thing for sure : touch isn't is thing even if it's how everyone else chose to communicate their love.

I saw a post a while back detailing how Oscar is always putting his hands up as a barrier when he's scared or uncomfortable and that makes me cry a little instead but it's true TT. Anyway...

In the latest volumes we've got quite a bit of comforting Oscar-talks but I have to wonder how much of that is due to Ozpin's influence really. As a result I've decided to settle on... Acts of Service or Quality Time ! This is based on a few details : when people are upset with him in one shape or form, Oscar was always very eager to prove himself useful, give some aspect of concrete help (such as cooking a Casserole, ringing any bell ?). Plus I imagine that's the exact brand of help his Aunt would have needed most on a farm. Added to that, he always seems fairly happy to be included, be with the others no matter what's going on. Training ? Yay ! A movie with Jaune & Weiss ? Smiling puppy look. Fancy party ? Shenanigans together ! So yea, I love seeing my boy loved and hugged but please everyone settle for the loving he's most comfortable with <3

“She made a choice! A choice to put others before herself! So do I.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I thought you guys would appreciate a hot meal after... spending all day looking for me, apparently.”

“No, it's okay. These past few days, I've been scared of the same things you were. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be... me. But I did some thinking, and I do know that I want to do everything I can to help with whatever time I have left.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Ozpin

For our favorite immortal wizard aka not quite dead Headmaster... I think the answer is rather obvious. When you're so careful with your words, but also so fiercely devoted to humanity, Words of Affirmation is a must. Ozpin constantly does his best to calm, to reassure. He's good at controlling the conversation and getting people where he wants... Except he more often than not use it to make them think and help them reach an healing ore motivating conclusion. This man is so insisten on giving and cultivating hope, so painfully aware of just how much words can change... There's no doubt in my mind that it's through these very same words that he tries to fight the darkness in others' mind, even when they don't want to let themselves be persuaded. And with some help from the farmboi, Ozpin is gaining in honesty and earnestness. And that can only help in giving comfort.

But to be honest... If you offer him a hug I doubt he'd refuse, and he definitely deserves one. Also therapy. For Oscar too. Everyone in therapy 2k21.

“Ruby. I've made more mistakes than any man, woman, and child on this planet. But at this moment I would not consider your appointment to leader to be one of them. Do you?”

“It's not every day that friends are able to come together like this. Time has a way of testing our bonds, but it's nights like these that can help keep them stronger than ever. Nights like these are ones we'll never forget.”

“Don't worry, Mr. Arc. Your journey is far from over, and the same might be said for all of you. Unlocking your Semblance isn't the end. It can still grow and evolve. Providing you are willing to put in the work, who knows what could happen?”

- - - - - - - - - -

Emerald Sustrai

Now here I'm gonna go ahead and say that the way Emerald has been taught to express her love and the way SHE would rather preffered to be loved most likely do not align. At the side of someone like Cinder, and even Mercury who isn't exactly the most emotionally vulnerable person; the only brand of love that gets an easy pass is Acts of Service, and that's probably what Emerald is the most used to. I can go on a mission with you. I can help. We go right back to the "I can be useful" mentality and I'm not sure she's been shown any other way honestly. Let's be real though : if someone offered a hug or some gentle words ? She'd probably pout & fuss but I hardly doubt she'd object.

“I don't care about Salem! But I owe Cinder everything. You want to fight her that bad? Be my guest.”

“I just... Cinder was the only family I ever had. She cared about me, taught me things... But without her here, I don't know if what we're doing--”

“I've been working on my Semblance. I can help. I won't tell anybody.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Pyrrha Nikos

What's with everyone and dedicating their whole love toward just helping their teammates anyway they can ?! Stop ! But any way, you guessed it. I'm pretty sure one of Pyrrha's top way of showing love is Acts of Service, and nothing means quite as much to her as Quality Time. For someone who's been put on a pedestal and has a hard time relating to people; both touch and words can be a bit awkward. But if they're wrapped up neatly in a training session or semblance explanations ? Well that's already a more familiar area. Pyrrha gives her whole to her friends and those she cares about. And in exchange, if anyone can simply... be there and spend time with her... May it be at the ball or simply sitting in the courtyard... I'm sure our girl would be delighted.

“Jaune, you know if you ever need help, you can just ask.”

“I'm constantly surrounded by love and praise; but when you're placed on a pedestal like that for so long, you become separated from the people that put you there in the first place. But thanks to you, I've made friendships that will last a lifetime.”

“I'll do it. If you believe this will help humanity, then I will become your Fall Maiden.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Qrow Branwen

If I say Gift Giving for the corvid, is someone gonna hit me ? Come on it's fun ! Okay, more seriously... I think this kind of love conversation is kind of a necessity for Qrow. With a semblance such as Bad Luck, making everything complicated... Qrow tries to keep his distance from those he cares about. And since he's an emotionally repressed (but caring) asshole on top of it... Well that kinda narrows down his option. You know what DOESN'T put anyone at risk but can still bring smiles on their face ? GIFTS. Shiny things, souvenirs from his missions all over the world to give to 2 smol nieces. Sounds safe right ? That said, as any good emotionally unavailable character in this show, I gotta say Qrow probably has a thing for helping out and making himself useful in relation to Oz, Tai or the rest of the inner circle. So you know what that means *whisper* Acts of Service.

That said ! When it comes to receiving some love back... Qrow probably likes everything he doesn't allow himself to have. Soft touches, loving & comforting words, spending time with a friend without his semblance making everything complicated... We know that's all he wants.

“You idiot. I know you didn't do this.”

“Look, pal, I'm not sure who you are, but you need to leave my niece alone.”

“No one wanted me... I was cursed... I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world... I thought I was finally doing some good...”

- - - - - - - - - -

Clover Ebi

And among our newbies (and gone too soon) friends we have Clover ! Clover was a very good contrast to our dusty old crow but also a great help. Kind-hearted, perceptive and honest; he knew just how to put Qrow's self-loathing in his place and push him to give himself some credit. He always had a nice word or a joke for everyone, and visibly the rock of the Ace Ops : an expert a keeping the moral up and the mood companiable. Evidently, Words of Affirmation was his expertise. Had things gone differently, I'm sure we'd have had time for many more earnest and helpful conversations with this teal-eyed fisherman.

“It's a good thing they had someone to look up to and get them through it. Not everyone is so lucky.”

“I meant deflect a compliment. Those kids wouldn't be where they are without you. You've had more of an effect on them than you realize.”

“We don't have to fight, friend.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Winter Schnee

And today in the "emotionally unavailable" category we have... Winter Schnee ! TALK ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS PEOPLE ! Just - I would say look at Ruby but even she doesn't talk about her bad vibes... Nor does any of the "Words of Affirmation" peeps. Honestly what's wrong with y'all people ? Anyway Winter cares so much. Is it hidden behind professionalism and a stern *big sister* demeanour ? Sure. But it doesn't negate just how much she loves her closed ones. She's fiercely loyal, and even if she doesn't let her personal feelings get in the way of her duty and doing what needs to be done, no one is allowed to say she doesn't care. Countrary to Weiss, Winter doesn't seem as good nor as aware of the love that exists in simply *being* with people. Rather, she's dutiful and ready to help any way she can when given the chance. You guessed it, yet another Acts of Service kind of love... Maybe I'm doing this wrong XD. I'm on the fence about Words of Affirmation as well. Despite her standoffish looks, Winter has always been very open & reassuring during her discussions with Penny. But she's more stern when it comes to Weiss so I dunno x)

“I don't recall asking about your ranking, I'm asking how you've been. Are you eating properly? Have you taken up any hobbies? Are you making new friends?”

“You've grown up a bit, haven't you? You're not the little girl clinging to the family name anymore.”

“You can't just buy trust like everything else! You have to earn it!”

And that's it for Part 2 ! I might do some other characters if people suggest some but I don't have a pressing need to right now. I have many ideas of songs to apply to various characters however so that's prob what my next posts will consist of (or fun templates)

If anyone has tips to create RWBY gifs or links to download the eps in good quality I'll take it ! Good day everyone !

#rwby #oscar pine #emerald sustrai #ozpin #winter schnee #qrow branwen #clover ebi #pyrrha nikos #love language #fair game #love langauges

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Ep 17 part one

(Masterpost of all the rewatches) (Canary’s pinboard of original content)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Inaccessible

Wei Wuxian hides in a boat among the lotuses next to a pier in Lotus Pier, the second-most-literally-named home in the show, after The Burial Mounds. This pier has a railing that goes all the way around it, without any ladders or anything. Not to be ADA on main but this means if you can't Jedi jump, you're fucked.

Hefeng Liquor

While Wei Wuxian waits and tries, not very successfully, to keep his shit together, he hears the guards talking about the local booze that they're going to drink at their murder victory party. We learn, in a desaturated flashback (that OP has done her best to resaturate), that this is lotus-infused wine invented by Wei Wuxian during happier days.

He kicks the flashback off with his favorite activity, Unnecessarily Erotic Beverage Drinking. (gifset) I’ve slowed this gif down so we can all appreciate the unnecessariness. The way his hand caresses that leaf OMG

Hopefully he is not drinking lake water out of that leaf. Side note: How is it possible that Xiao Zhan doesn't have a drinking water endorsement deal? I had to resort to Zhu Yilong's brand of water for this gag. I figure if it's good enough to pour directly onto a lightning burn like they do in The Lost Tomb Reboot, it's good enough for a leaf hummer chastely drinking out of a leaf

(more behind the cut!)

In his memory, Jiang Cheng tells him to stop fucking around and come help with the basket of lotus pods. Wei Wuxian responds by grabbing one for himself and then sitting his ass down and not helping. Cause he’s a motherfucking P.I.M.P.

Emotional Rescue

Wen Ning arrives on the pier with Jiang Chang, to Wei Wuxian's extreme relief. Look how much emotion Xiao Zhan is able to convey even with half of his face hidden, my lord.

Wen Ning carries Jiang Cheng on his back, in an echo of other significant piggyback rides in Wei Wuxian's life.

Wei Wuxian's relief is at war with his fear, seeing his brother in such bad shape. Remember, these are cultivators, who heal quickly and mostly don't get their asses beat this hard. The only time Wei Wuxian has been comatose was after the Xuanwu cave, and that was probably because of his prolonged contact with resentful energy/Yin iron.

Hibernating Zidian

Wen Ning gets ready for his first, but not his last, boat ride with an unconscious Yunmeng brother in it. He tells Wei Wuxian that Jiang Cheng is pretty fucked up but isn't dead.

Then he gives Zidian to him. Before we talk about Zidian, let's talk about BAMF Wen Ning. Wen Ning is an awkward goofball. He’s also insanely competent at just about everything--wine-drugging, dude-smuggling, corpse retrieval, dog acupuncture, drug pushing. As well as shooting rocks out of the air and, later, beating zombie ass, and resisting mind control. .

This is the foundation of their friendship; it’s not actually about Wei Wuxian being nice to the weird kid. He initially sought Wen Ning out for the same reason he sought out weird kid Lan Wangji--his martial skill. He accepts his weirdness and is protective of him because of his missing-spirit problem, but he did not befriend him out of altruism.

Wei Wuxian is so forgiving that he can smile fondly when looking at the weapon that whipped the shit out of him a couple of days ago.

Wei Wuxian puts Zidian down right next to Jiang Cheng's hand and...nothing happens. It doesn't recognize him or spark to life. This didn't seem meaningful when I watched it the first time, but rewatching...yikes. It KNOWS.

Wei Wuxian admits, with tears in his eyes, that there is nowhere safe for him to go with Jiang Cheng, and Wen Ning immediately offers care and shelter. Even though that is putting his own life at serious risk.

Life obligation is a common theme in CDramas. It’s often something a person chooses as a way of showing love. Guardian builds an eternal romance out of two people saving each other’s lives over and over. But accepting the obligation is a choice (in fantasy dramas, if not in real life). Love and Redemption has a gloriously harsh sequence where a life is saved, and the save-ee cooly rejects the saver.

Every time Wen Ning saves Wei Wuxian, he cites that one time that Wei Wuxian saved him from the water demon. And Wei Wuxian cites this rescue right here when he throws everything away to save Wen Ning. Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng doesn't acknowledge any debt to Wen Ning at all, only--grudgingly--to Wen Qing. And people are ok with that.

Basically all this is to say that I think Wen Ning leans into this life debt because he loves Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian leans into it because he loves him back. Non-romantically, I think...at least on Wei Wuxian’s part. YMMV.

They go to pick up Yanli from their Granny, telling her to go into hiding. She starts to cry, not knowing how she'll manage on her own. Wei Wuxian tells her that they will come back, as Wen Ning looks super unsure about that.

Of course Wei Wuxian can't know, at this point, whether they will come back. Wei Wuxian always wants to make everybody feel better, and sometimes you really can't make someone feel better except by lying. He compulsively says shit that he thinks people want to hear, almost as if he was beaten frequently and arbitrarily as a child.

Wen Ning is doing his best for the recreational boat ride industry, as he rows the Yunmeng trio through some amazingly beautiful scenery.

Core Melting Time

Meanwhile, back at Lotus Pier The Yunmeng Supervisory Office, Wen Chao is hung over, Wen Chao is angry, Yawn

For some reason, Wang Lingjiao has suddenly decided to talk to Wen Chao in the most cloying and annoying way possible.

Also, the fact that she still addresses him as Gongzi when she is totally fucking him is kind of great. This is like those fics where Elizabeth Bennet calls Mr. Darcy "Mr. Darcy" even when they're married and hitting it.

Wen Zhuliu demonstrates why he's called Core-Melting Hand, by punishing the wine guard. He's able to melt a guy's core by grabbing him by the throat, and also picks him up, Darth Vader style, for extra meltyness.

All that stuff I said last time about Wen Zhuliu feeling ambivalent about being a villian...yeah, he seems to have gotten that right out of his system.

Chilling in Yiling

Wen Ning is doing his best for the recreational carriage ride industry. Wei Wuxian, after presumably several hours in the cart, decides that now is a good time to get curious about where they are going.

Here we start to see a new side of Wei Wuxian. Before this he was carefree, other than specific worries about his friends. He confronted danger with lightness and humor, or with temporary fear, that he let go of once the danger passed. Now, after all the deaths and seeing Jiang Cheng so injured, he's twitchy, anxious, and angry.

Very, very angry.

When he realizes that Wen Ning has brought them to the Yiling supervisory office, he goes off, demanding to know whose home this was before the Wens took it and grabbing Wen Ning and shoving him into a decorative...decoration. He thinks Wen Ning brought them here to harm them.

I wouldn't have thought such a pretty dude could be so menacing, but holy crap.

The way he's confronting Wen Ning here is not his normal style. He's not trying to provoke a bigger fight like he usually does; he's not trying to create distance, the way Jiang Cheng does. He's very intimate, getting right in his face and maintaining eye contact. He trusted Wen Ning and feels personally betrayed.

Shy little Wen Ning is remarkably calm when confronted like this. Wen Ning really isn’t afraid of anything, despite his general air of nervousness. (Full gifset of Angry WWX over here.)

He calmly and kindly explains the situation. He doesn't appeal to Wei Wuxian's trust, saying "oh I would never;" he appeals to his logic, which gets through to him.

Wen Qing comes out and the guards start banging on the door and Wei Wuxian flips out again, grabbing a sword and pointing it at Wen Qing as she decides what to do. Wen Qing seems unruffled by Wei Wuxian's sword pointing, and we see her weighing up the situation.

She makes her decision, sending the guards away and deciding to help the fugitives, officially joining the Clear Conscience Club. She could probably get Wen Ning out of trouble by turning them in, but she opts to put personal loyalty and her belief in her own ideals ahead of her family's safety.

Wei Wuxian is not ok. He’s just not ok. He tries to act like it after they get settled in with Wen Qing, but he's not, and I think that plays into his next several choices.

Next comes a whole sequence of Jiang Cheng being unconscious with pins in his head--ow--while Wei Wuxian twitchily tends to him.

This sequence is kind of unfair to Jiang Yanli. What matters to the story here is Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian's relationship, so that’s the focus of these scenes. But really, there is no way Jiang Yanli would not be at Jiang Cheng's side unless she was literally unconscious herself. Let's assume Wen Qing stuck a needle in her to make her rest while she has a fever. Shippers should also feel free to assume that Wen Qing spent hours at her bedside, tenderly wiping her forehead and holding her hand as she recovered. In his sleep, while Wei Wuxian sits by his side, Jiang Cheng calls for his sister, mother, and father, but not for his brother. Ouch.

Let's pause to appreciate Wei Wuxian's new outfit, which is the sort of getup most people in this society probably imagine Yiling Laozu wearing, rather than the low-key homespun stuff he actually spends his Yiling year in. This robe has fancy shoulders, shiny material, touches of Jiang purple, strange red hoody strings, and a fuckin' CAPE. He didn't bring any luggage with him from Lotus Pier, although he's still got his Yin Turtle Sword hidden in a bag of holding. So the most likely explanation is that Wen Ning hooked him up with this lewk. "Wei Wuxian is a nice person. He should have a magnificent cape."

Wen Wing and Wei Wuxian take a breather to stand on the porch and work out what their status is with each other, like a couple of fucking adults, which is amazing. Basically Wei Wuxian is ready to forget earlier Wen shenanigans, but is going to avenge Lotus Pier.

Wen Qing isn't enthusiastic about that but doesn't argue, just asking, mostly rhetorically, if he plans to kill her too. He's uncomfortable considering that; the role of avenger isn't one that's comfortable for him, although he turns out to be extremely good at it. He does not, of course, plan to kill her too. In a few months, imprisoned in a Wen dungeon, she will be the only Wen left alive after Wei Wuxian 1.5(No-Gold Edition) and Chenqing come to visit.

Jiang Cheng finally wakes up, and the first thing he does is to test out his spiritual power by hitting Wei Wuxian as hard as he can.

DUDE.

Look at Wei Wuxian's face, as he goes from happy, to shocked and hurt, to laughing it off. It's exactly like when Jiang Cheng shoved him in the Rock Lady temple. Has Wei Wuxian spent all of his years with Jiang Cheng going from affection, to hurt feelings, to pretending it's fine? God, I think he probably has.

This episode raises a question that will come up again later, but never be answered. That question is, what the fuck are these weird footies and why the fuck does Jiang Cheng wear them to bed?

Jiang Cheng reveals that his golden core is gone, that he can't cultivate any more, which means he can't avenge his parents or achieve any ambitions in life. Nobody has apparently given any thought to why Wen Zhuliu is called "Core-Melting Hand" before this, which is hilarious, frankly. If I fought with a guy called, for example, Brain-Eating Mouth, I think I would make certain assumptions about him and what he planned to do with my brain.

Something interesting is happening in this moment, because as he comes fully back to consciousness, Jiang Cheng pours out all of his trauma and horror to his brother, telling him about the core melting and practically wailing about his feelings over it all. And his brother understands, and ultimately finds a way to help him. What does Wei Wuxian do after his own trauma? Keeps it secret, so nobody finds a way to help him, although many people try to. So Jiang Cheng is, in this way at least...emotionally healthier than Wei Wuxian? That's unexpected.

Jiang Cheng is super upset and is mad at eternal scapegoat Wei Wuxian for saving him. Jiang Cheng would rather be dead than be a regular person. Whereas Wei Wuxian, faced with the same problem, is like, *shrug* I’ll adapt. These are both valid emotional responses to suddenly becoming disabled. Losing a golden core is definitely a disability, in this environment; it's not just about magic sword fights. Jiang Cheng's home is designed for people who can fly; Lan Wangji's home is designed for people who don't feel cold, and Wen Central is made of actual lava, for example.

Jiang Cheng is already struggling with a lot of difficulties. He was raised by shitty parents, he's got anger management issues, he has a crushing weight of responsibility. And now he's also lived through the deaths of most of the people who matter to him. If sword cultivation is the one thing that gives him joy in life (ok one of two things, obviously fashion also gives him joy because he WORKS it), he can't reasonably be expected to rally when it's taken away.

Oh, honey. Oh, baby boy.

Wen Qing picks the worst moment to come in and tries to tend to Jiang Cheng, who starts off being devastated that the girl he likes is seeing the wreck he's become, and then moves along to helpless rage when he remembers that she's a Wen, and he screams at her to get out.

Jiang Cheng is not able to put personal loyalty ahead of clan loyalty like Wei Wuxian is. Partly this is his nature, and partly it's his role as the lineal descendant of the clan leader. As a firstborn son of a gentry family, his destiny as clan leader is in his blood, and so is his responsibility to the clan. When Wei Wuxian praises Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen for caring less about bloodlines than about shared ambition, he is speaking from the position of someone who's bloodline ain't shit. Jiang Cheng will never be able to share that perspective.

Next: More of this excruciating episode!

Writing prompt: The Day I Discovered I Could Melt Your Fucking Core, by Wen Zhuliu Drabble prompt: Why I Wear Socks to Bed, by Jiang Cheng

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #wen qing #wen ning #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #the untamed spoilers

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kanerallels · 3 years ago

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My Heart Is In Your Hands

(For Kanera Week, based on the prompt "ultimate OTP moment/night out")

Read on AO3 here!

@kaneraweek

Word Count: 5,250

Tags/Warnings: rated G

Summary: The Jedi throw an engagement party that Kanan and Hera in particular find very... engaging

Hera couldn’t believe how fast the next two weeks slipped by. Maybe it was because of all the work that needed to be done in preparation-- many of the guests invited were Imperial, so they had to make sure there were no signs of Mace, Depa and Kanan’s work with the Rebellion. There was also a lot of cleaning, cooking and various preparations to be done in general. Hera and Kanan had their own way to get ready, going over their story repeatedly to make sure they didn’t forget it, memorizing key details and producing answers for any possible questions that could be asked.

Of course, there was also the fact that Hera had started working with the cell on Lothal, alongside Kanan. She was usually the getaway pilot, but she’d gone on a couple of actual ops as well. After the first mission, Kanan relaxed significantly about her being out in the field, although Hera still wasn’t sure why he’d gotten so jumpy. She didn’t have much time to think about it, though.

Most of the guests would be arriving the day of the party, but a few arrived a couple days before. Kanan and Hera went down to meet some of them at the front door, the first of which was a tall Kalleran. The moment the Kalleran spotted Kanan he all but crushed him in a hug. “Kid! Since when are you getting married?”

“Kriff, Kasmir-- can’t breathe-- Kanan gasped.

Releasing him, the Kalleran turned to Hera and gave her a gentlemanly bow. “Janus Kasmir at your service. A pleasure to meet the young woman who caught Kanan’s heart. I have to know everything. How’d you two meet?”

“Believe it or not, it was only a month or two ago,” Hera said, slipping her arm through Kanan’s. “I was having… a little trouble with a street gang, and Kanan stepped in to give me a hand. By which I mean he handled one of them, and I took out the rest.”

“Give me a little credit,” Kanan protested. “I handled at least two.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, dear,” Hera said, unable to prevent the smile crossing her face at Kanan’s fake chagrin.

Chuckling, Kasmir said, “She’s good for you, kid. I like her.”

“Don’t call me kid,” Kanan grumbled. “But I like her, too.”

“I should hope so, you are marrying her,” Kasmir said with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Excuse me, I’m gonna go say hi to your Jedi mom and your kid who’s cooler than you.”

As the Kalleran strode into the house, Hera turned to Kanan, trying not to laugh. “So, he’s… interesting. I like him, I will say.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Kanan said with some drama, and Hera smirked.

“Well, I kept you around, didn’t I?”

The next guest was an older man, mostly bald with a fringe of white hair, and a white beard. Directing a warm smile at them, he said, “Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise? Two of my favorite people are getting married.”

“What-- Okadiah?” Kanan said, and Hera’s gaze snapped to him.

“Wait, you know Okadiah?”

“YOU know Okadiah?” Kanan countered.

“Indeed,” Okadiah said with a chuckle. “I met Hera when she was just starting out on her own. Gave her a place to stay for a while and helped her on her way.”

“And how did you meet Kanan?” Hera asked curiously.

“It’s a long story,” Kanan cut in hastily. “That we don’t have time for right now. Suffice to say there was a moon that was about to be blown up, actually a few crazy cyborgs, and a couple barroom brawls involved.”

“I’ll regale you with the full tale another time,” Okadiah assured Hera. “In the meantime, let me just say I couldn’t have chosen better for you two if I had chosen myself. I congratulate you both deeply.

“Thanks, Oke,” Kanan said, shooting the older man a smile as he headed inside.

Next, they found themselves facing the third group, which was an eclectic group Hera had not expected-- a Mandalorian woman in green-blue armor, a Mirialan woman with purple skin, curly hair and exceptional fashion, and a human man holding hands with her. In their free hands, both of the latter two carried hefty suitcases, and the Mandalorian was lugging two more.

Grinning, Kanan stepped forward. “Cinya! How are you?”

“Still very willing to punch you out again,” the Mandalorian said tartly.

“But you won’t because he’s only got a week until his big party,” the Mirialan reminded her. Turning to Hera, she smiled warmly. “I’m Hadassah, and this is Lanter.” She nodded at the man next to her, who shot Hera a friendly smile.

“They’re dating,” Cinya said, and Kanan’s eyes lit up.

“About time-- congratulations, you two.”

“Thanks,” Lanter said, grinning. “Congratulations to you-- I can’t believe you’re getting married! Seems like only yesterday Cinya tried to kill you in Hadassah’s juice bar.”

“Good times,” Kanan said remiscently.

“I take it there’s something of a story here,” Hera remarked, and Hadassah laughed.

“You have no idea. Luckily, we'll have plenty of time to tell you. Lanter and I are your stylists for the party.”

“Really?” Kanan said, surprised. “I didn't know Mace and Depa asked you guys to do that.”

“You bet your life, you tall string bean,” Lanter said with a grin. “Lanter and Hadassah are here to save the day.”

Kanan looked at him for a moment, then turned to Cinya. “He watched “The Princess Diaries” on the way here, didn't he?”

Cinya nodded. “Both of them, and he cried twice during the second one.”

“I won't apologize for my love for Clarisse and Joe,” Lanter said dramatically. “They're the ultimate couple goals. Hadassah is my Clarisse.”

“You are so sweet,” Hadassah said, kissing him on the cheek.

Cinya let out a dramatic sigh. "You guys are so ridiculously sappy. Let's get moving.”

The five of them headed into the house and up to a suite that had clearly been prepared for this very reason-- a table was set up with a mirror on it, a swivel chair in front of it. At one end of the room Hera spotted a folding screen set up to change behind.

Lanter and Hadassah instantly started unpacking from their suitcases-- hairbrushes, makeup containers, ear cone pendants, perfumes, and a thousand other things that could be useful. “You… really came prepared,” Hera said, staring as Lanter pulled out a curling iron. “However, I doubt I’m going to need that.”

“Oh, that’s for Dassah,” Lanter assured her. “But if Kanan could just let me do his hair--”

“Absolutely not,” Kanan said immediately. “I already told Sabine she could.”

“But Kanan, I have the perfect--”

“Under no circumstances are you giving me the moose hairdo from “The Princess Diaries”, Lanter.”

Smirking, Lanter said, “But you would be a handsome moose. Make all the girl moose go WHUA!”

Kanan groaned, but Hera couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’m going to like you,” she told Lanter, who beamed.

“Why thank you, Ms. Syndulla, I like you very much, too!”

Grinning, Hadassah said, “Alright, we have work to do, and I'm sure that you two do, as well. But before you go-- color preferences for your outfits? Keep in mind that they have to be somewhat coordinated.”

“Nah, I trust you not to put me in anything too reprehensible,” Kanan said jokingly.

Rolling her eyes, Hadassah said, “Immeasurably unhelpful. Fine-- I'm thinking of a blue and green color scheme for the two of you. Lanter, what do you think?”

“Perfect,” Lanter immediately agreed. “We'll get to work straight away.”

“And we'll leave you to it,” Hera said. Looping her arm through Kanan's, she tugged him forward, and they headed out.

As they made their way down the hall, Kanan murmured, “Nice job with Kasmir earlier. He can be a little too nosy for his own good.”

“No worries-- he seems nice,” Hera commented. “Very excited about us.”

A slight smile pulled at the corner of Kanan's mouth. “He's an old friend. I'm not surprised he's so excited, frankly. It's kind of who he is.”

Hera nodded without speaking, but felt an internal twinge. Part of her couldn't help but dislike the fact they were deceiving so many people, good people. They didn't deserve to be lied to like this.

And there was also another part of her. A part that found herself noticing Kanan's quiet determination and his kindness around Ezra and the grin he'd give her sometimes-- and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't noticed the fact that she was engaged to an extremely handsome man. There was a part of her that felt a flutter in her chest at his touch.

And that part of her wished that this whole thing wasn't based on a lie.

“Hera?” Kanan's concerned voice broke through her thoughts, and she glanced up to see him frowning at her. “You okay?”

Hera gave her head a quick shake, like the motion would send those thoughts flying. But they’d been there too long for that. “Fine, sorry-- were you saying something?”

A slight furrow in Kanan’s brow hinted that he wasn’t quite satisfied with her response, but all he said was, “I was wondering if you still think your father won’t accept his invitation.”

“Oh.” Hera shook her head. “No, he won’t come. Especially since you’re inviting Imperials to keep our cover. He doesn’t know that-- he’ll probably assume I’m all but colluding with them. So either he won’t come, or I’ll wish he hadn’t.” Releasing a sigh, she said, “I guess I always assumed he and my mother would be here for this.”

Kanan slipped his arm from around hers long enough to catch hold of her hand, and Hera felt her heartbeat stutter as his fingers laced through hers. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

“It’s okay,” Hera told him, returning the gesture. “I may not have my father and mother, but I have you, and everyone else here. And at this point, they feel like family almost more than my father does.”

The smile Kanan gave her was a soft one with that unusual warmth shining around the edges, the light that she saw in his eyes more and more these days. Hera couldn’t bring herself to look away, despite the flush she knew was growing on her cheeks. Time to get out of here, she decided. Before I do something truly stupid.

“I should probably--” she started.

“Do you ever--” Kanan began at the same time. They both stopped short, and Hera laughed, feeling a flash of self-consciousness.

“Sorry, you go ahead,” Kanan said, giving her the crooked grin, the one that was Hera’s favorite. For just a second, her gaze lingered on it, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to close the distance, to drop a kiss against the upturned corner of his mouth--

What are you THINKING, Hera? She scolded herself. You can’t just start thinking about kissing Kanan, not now. Clearing her throat, she said, “I was just going to say that I’d better get going-- plenty to do before our party.”

“Right, yeah,” Kanan said, and was Hera imagining it or was there something a little strained about his voice? “Same here. See you later?”

“Yes-- but didn’t you want to tell me something?” Hera asked.

Kanan opened his mouth to speak, and stopped for a moment. Closing it, he finally shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’d better get going.”

Releasing Hera’s hand, he headed off down the hall, leaving Hera staring after him. Well, that was… strange. But she really didn’t have time to spend thinking about why Kanan was acting so strangely.

So of course, over the next three days leading up to their engagement party, that was all she thought about. Especially since Kanan seemed to be avoiding her. He was always out on some sort of business of some kind or in a fitting with Lanter or working to help clean out the ballroom.

And Hera didn’t feel hurt by that. That would be ridiculous. They were both busy, she didn’t exactly have time to spend with him either.

Or maybe she was avoiding him, too. Either way, it didn’t matter. Much.

Alright, it definitely did matter, but some part of Hera didn’t want to bring it up. Maybe she was afraid of the answer, maybe she was afraid she’d lose what she had with Kanan, maybe she was afraid that she was falling in love with a man she wasn’t supposed to technically fall for.

So she kept pushing aside the thoughts, and threw herself into working for the engagement party. And before she knew it, it was the evening of the party, and she was heading up to Hadassah’s suite to get her dress.

The Mirialan was waiting with excitement stamped across her face, and a companion-- Depa Billaba. Throwing her a smile, Depa said, “Don’t mind me, I’m just here to see my future daughter in law get ready. It’s my prerogative.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hera said, giving Depa a smile and pretending like the “daughter in law” part didn’t throw her for a loop. “Okay-- where’s my dress?”

“Here,” Hadassah said, darting over to the changing screen and pulling a dress on a hanger from behind it. She held it up, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “What do you think?”

Hera’s eyes widened at the sight-- a sleeveless dress with a high neckline, made of fluttery fabric, the color shading from teal into a deep cobalt blue. It was stunning-- Hera knew just by looking at it that she’d never owned anything so expensive and beautiful in her life, other than the Ghost.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, brushing a hand across the smooth cloth. “I-- I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Well, Depa paid us,” Hadassah said with a shrug. “But you can repay us by going out and having a good time with your fiance tonight. Speaking of which, I’d better get going-- Lanter’s waiting for me downstairs.”

Giving them a quick wave, Hadassah slipped out of the room, leaving Hera with Depa. Glancing at the Jedi, Hera said, “Thank you. I don’t know how I can repay you--”

“No repayment necessary,” Depa said firmly. “I’m happy to do it.” As Hera admired the dress for a moment longer, she added, “However, I do have a question for you.”

Hera glanced at Depa curiously, and saw the Jedi wearing a patiently curious expression. “I’ve noticed you and Kanan have been avoiding each other lately. Did something happen?”

“No, I-- we’re not-- what makes you think--” Hera stammered, and Depa held up a hand.

“Hera. I’m not the blind one. You two used to spend every day together, but I haven’t seen you with my apprentice in days. What’s going on?”

Hera bit her lip, her eyes flicking from Depa to the floor and then back again. Part of her felt that saying how she felt out loud would make it far too real. But the sympathy and understanding in Depa’s eyes pulled the words out of her. “I don’t want to avoid him. But things are just… complicated right now.”

Narrowing her eyes, Depa said, “Did he make a move on you?”

“What? No, of course not.” Hera felt herself flush at her next words. “Do you think-- would he-- never mind.”

“Ahhh.” A knowing smile grew on Depa’s face. “I see.”

“See… what?” Frustration boiled through Hera at the almost desperate curiosity in her words. She felt so irritatingly petty about this whole thing.

“That you’re in love with my apprentice,” Depa said matter of factly.

Oh. Oh, dear. But she wasn’t wrong. “I… I didn’t expect this to happen,” Hera said softly. “I had no idea that Kanan would be…” Handsome? Charming? So incredibly caring and kind? The kind of man I could spend my life with?

“I know,” Depa said, her tone soft and sympathetic. “It can’t be easy to be in a relationship without actually being in a relationship. Hera-- if I may give you some advice?”

“Okay,” Hera said hesitantly.

“You don’t seem to be the kind of woman who would give her heart easily. But if Kanan’s the one who’s earned it, don’t give up on that. Both of you deserve better than that.”

“He does, you’re right,” Hera agreed, her voice low. “I just don’t want to ruin what Kanan and I have by--”

“Telling him that you love him?” Depa reached out and touched her hand, her eyes kind. “You don’t have to. But honesty is important in any relationship, whether it’s romantic or not. And will you regret it if you don’t? Just think about it, please.”

“I-- I will,” Hera promised, unsure whether it was fear or determination swelling in her chest. Depa smiled and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“Good. Now, get dressed. You have a party to get to.”

Half an hour later, Hera was wearing the amazing dress Hadassah had given her, along with a set of silver ear cone pendants set with teal gems and a matching bracelet. She waited by the door of the ballroom for Kanan, who still hadn’t arrived. Is he even coming? She wondered with a flash of worry-- silly worry, really. Kanan wouldn’t just stand her up, and it was his party, too.

Seconds after she thought the words, she heard footsteps behind her, and Kanna’s voice. “Sorry I’m late,” he called. “Ezra needed something before I left.”

“Don’t worry about it--”

Hera’s words stuttered to a halt in her mouth as she stared at Kanan, who gaped right back at her. She usually saw him in his casual every-day wear, or occasionally Jedi robes. What he wore now was nothing like that.

He wore a crisp white shirt with long sleeves and dark trousers. Over the shirt, he had on a navy blue jerkin with teal embroidery that brought out the vibrant color in his eyes. At his hip hung his lightsaber, which Hera had only rarely seen him with.

“Wow,” he breathed as he stared at her. “You’re… wow.”

“You… you look incredible,” Hera managed. And it was the truth. A small smile lifted the corner of Kanan’s mouth.

“Thanks,” he said, closing the distance between them and capturing her hand in his. Hera felt her heart start pounding as he gazed at her, seeming to drink in the sight of her. “But trust me,” he murmured. “No one’s going to be looking at me when you’re standing next to me.”

“I will be.” Hera felt her face warm the minute the words slipped out of her mouth, because it sounded like flirting. It was flirting, she knew. But she really couldn’t help herself, especially with him standing inches away from her, looking at her the way he was.

A crooked grin danced across Kanan’s face. “Really, Captain Syndulla? Flirting at a time like this?”

“Well, it is our engagement party,” Hera pointed out, feeling a ridiculous sense of relief. Kanan was here with her, and even his presence made this whole thing a little easier to deal with. Well, except for the fact that she was incredibly caught off guard by how handsome he looked tonight.

Offering her his arm, Kanan said, “That’s true. And we should probably head in. Are you ready?”

Looping her arm around his, Hera replied, “Not remotely. Let’s do this.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They moved into the ballroom subtly, but somehow everyone noticed them the moment they set foot inside. Hera could feel the eyes on her, and she stiffened, trying not to panic. Kanan’s thumb brushed against her bare upper arm, sending a quick shiver down her spine. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice too low for anyone else to hear. “Take a deep breath. I’m here.”

Somehow, that was more comforting than anything else he could have said. Hera took a quick deep breath as Mace and Depa headed their way. Depa was clad in a lavender dress, while Mace looked majestically elegant in formal Jedi robes, the dark scar across his eyes totally unhidden.

Giving both of them a warm smile, Depa said, “You both look wonderful, although you are a little late.”

“Sorry-- Ezra was trying to convince me to smuggle him cake in my pockets,” Kanan apologized.

“I’m sure that’s what the guests will think happened,” Mace muttered with a small smirk that looked a little too much like his grand Padawan’s.

“Manners, Mace,” Depa said. “And I can’t believe I’m saying that to you instead of the other way around. Okay, here’s what you two need to do-- mingle a little bit, say hello to the guests. Make sure to greet Governor Pryce--”

“Absolutely not,” Kanan said flatly. “She’s the reason Ezra’s parents are--”

“I know that, but we have to be careful, Kanan,” Depa said, her voice firm.

“What-- Pryce isn’t some invincible succubus,” Kanan protested. “She’s a regular succubus, who can be defeated.”

Releasing a sigh, Depa turned to Hera. “When Pryce comes over-- she’s the one with the short black hair, Imperial uniform--”

“Don’t look straight into her eyes, though,” Kanan muttered.

“Why, because she’ll turn you to stone?” Mace asked.

“No, because her eyes are ugly.”

Letting out a sigh, Depa said, “Perhaps it’s better if Hera does the talking.”

“Perhaps,” Hera agreed.

“Fine,” Kanan said, not looking upset. “Anything else?”

Nodding, Depa said, “Yes. Actually try to have a good time. And don’t forget to have at least one dance.”

“Finally, something I can get behind,” Kanan said with a grin, and Hera was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing, of his arm brushing against hers.

She saw a slight smile flicker across Depa's face, but all the Jedi said was, “Have fun, you two.”

Turning, she led Mace away as the music began and a few couples started to move out onto the dance floor. One in particular caught Hera’s eye--- a man with dark hair and a scar across one eye, dressed in all black, including a long black coat embroidered in gold. At his side was a slight woman, her long curly hair hanging loose and free. She was dressed in a floor length golden silk gown, with a decorative aqua panel along the bodice and a matching sash. Slim straps hung the gown from her shoulders, which were bare except for a gauzy aqua veil that was clasped to her wrists with cuffs made of the same golden silk.

“Is that Senator Amidala?” she asked Kanan quietly.

“Yeah-- as it turns out, giant engagement parties are a really good way to get your Rebellion contacts in close proximity so you can exchange information. There’ll probably be a meeting tonight with some of the leaders-- including them.”

Hera followed Kanan’s discreet nod to a dark haired woman wearing dark blue, dancing with a man in a matching cape who Hera suddenly recognized. “Wait-- Senator Organa’s here, too?”

Nodding, Kann said, “As is Senator Mothma, the Duchess of Mandalore, and about a dozen others. The Jedi aren’t submitting. We’re just waiting for the right moment to strike.” Flashing her a teasing grin, he added, “And to think, you thought we were just sitting around letting the Empire walk all over us.”

“Well, you were acting that way very convincingly,” Hera pointed out.

“Glad to hear it.”

Spotting a tall woman in Imperial greys making her way through the crowd towards them. Hera muttered, “I think I spotted your friend, Governor Pryce.”

“What? Kriff.” Kanan grimaced. “Time to pretend to be polite.”

“Unless you didn’t see her, and you had something else very pressing to address,” Hera pointed out. “After all, you do owe me at least one dance. Probably more.”

A grin slowly crossed Kanan’s face. “I do, don’t I?” Giving her a bow, he offered her a hand. “Will you dance, Captain Hera?”

Placing her hand in his, Hera said, “With you, I will.”

The two of them moved out onto the dance floor together. The music in the background was sweet and elegant, and she had an excellent partner. True to form, Kanan’s movements were smooth and graceful. “You dance better than I expected,” Hera observed.

“I’ve been practicing,” Kanan admitted with that crooked grin of his. “Didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of my fiancee, after all. Spin.”

Hera obligingly twirled away from Kanan, her hand still locked securely in his. With a gentle tug, Kanan brought her back to him, his arm slipping back around her waist. Hera felt her breath catch as she met his eyes, and was suddenly very aware of the space between them. She was close enough she could sense the warmth of Kanan’s skin, and the look in his eyes as he gazed at her sent a flutter through her stomach.

“You’re staring, dear,” she told him in a soft undertone.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, his voice equally low.

Lifting an eyebrow, Hera said, “I mean. A little.”

A small wince crossed Kanan’s face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable isn’t the word I’d use,” Hera replied, and something flickered in Kanan’s eyes.

“Then… what would you call it?” he asked, his low baritone holding a soft question beyond his words.

“Cherished.”

The word slipped out before Hera could help it. But it was true. No one had ever looked at her the way Kanan had, the way he was looking at her now. Not like she was an object or a price on the slave market. Like she was something truly priceless.

Kanan’s eyes widened, and he started to speak. But before he could, a voice caught their attention. “Kanan! Mind if I have a word?”

Hera glanced towards the sound, catching sight of Anakin Skywalker heading towards them, a bearded man at his side who Hera realized must be Obi-Wan Kenobi. He shot Hera a look that could only be translated as “I am so sorry for this” as Anakin paused next to them.

“It’s important,” he told Kanan as he and Hera came to a halt.

“Of course,” Kanan said, releasing Hera and stepping away from her. Hera thought she saw a flash of reluctance in his eyes, but if it was there, he masked it well. Glancing at her, he said, “I’m sorry--”

“It’s fine, love,” Hera told him, forcing a smile. “I’ll leave you to it.”

She slipped away from the three of them and headed into the crowd, feeling Kanan’s eyes follow her as she walked. But it wasn’t long before she was out of their sight.

At the far end of the ballroom, there was a door that led out onto a balcony overlooking the Lothal prairie beyond the house. Hera made her way there, and slipped outside.

The cool night breeze was a relief after the nearly stifling warmth of the ballroom-- although not all of it was from the amount of people in there, Hera knew. She felt heat sweep over her again as her mind wandered back to dancing with Kanan, the warmth of his skin seeping through her dress.

Taking a quick breath, Hera pressed her hands against the cold stone of the balcony railing and stared out at Lothal’s moons shimmering amongst the stars above them. Two out of the three were full, just like the night when she’d first met Kanan. She never would have thought that evening that all of this would come about, that she would end up engaged to a man she’d just met.

That she would end up falling in love with him.

Hera pressed her eyes shut, taking a shaky breath. Force. She wasn’t even sure if he felt the same way. But that didn’t exactly stop her from thinking about Kanan, from wanting to be near him, from wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

“Hera?”

Kanan’s voice came from directly behind her, low and warm. Hera took in a quick breath, then turned to face him. The light from the doorway illuminated him from behind, the shadows obscuring his expression.

“Depa said she saw you heading this way,” he said, moving up next to her. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Hera said, and Kanan settled beside her, resting his forearms on the balcony railing.

“Sorry we got interrupted earlier,” he said, flicking a quick glance her way. “Apparently, Skywalker’s daughter had collected some important intel he wanted to share as soon as possible.”

“It’s fine, love,” Hera said. “I understand.”

She sensed Kanan stiffen next to her, and frowned. What did I-- oh.

“You called me love,” he said, his voice soft.

“I-- yeah, I did,” Hera said, feeling herself flushing. Of course this would be how it came out. She was trying to think of what to say next when Kanan spoke.

“Do you ever wish this was real?”

Hera froze, her brain going blank. All she could manage to say was, “What?”

“This whole thing, this engagement. Do you ever wish it was real? Because I-- I can’t lie to you, Hera.” Kanan turned towards her, and Hera felt her heart stutter against her breastbone as he met her gaze. “I do,” he said. “I’m sorry--”

“Don’t be.” The words slipped out of Hera’s mouth, but she didn’t even try to take them back. She couldn’t, not with the way Kanan was looking at her now, his eyes wide but full of something that made Hera flush.

“Hera,” he whispered. “I would never, ever do anything to push past your boundaries.”

“I know,” Hera said, her gaze locked on Kanan’s face and her heartbeat steadily rising as she watched him.

“But I really, really want to kiss you right now.” Kanan paused, his eyes lingering on her, then stepped a little closer. “Can I…?”

Hera closed the distance between them without hesitation. Her lips met his, and Hera was nearly swept off her feet by the dizzy array of emotions washing over her. A strong arm slipping around her waist steadied her as Kanan kissed her back, gently drawing her close.

They broke apart a few moments later, and Hera took a quick breath in. “Force, Kanan.”

“Can you tell I’ve been waiting a while to do that?” Kanan asked, his voice amused.

“Maybe a little,” Hera said, letting her forehead rest against his. “I-- how does this even happen? Who could have seen this coming?”

Kanan paused, then let out a soft chuckle that Hera more felt that heard. “Uh. Possibly Mace.”

“What??” Hera pulled back enough to see his face. “What are you talking about?”

“The first day you were here, he told me the Force led him to you, and it wanted you here,” Kanan said. “I didn’t know why at the time, but he seemed pretty confident.”

“And you think the Force wanted us together?” Hera said, lifting an eyebrow. “The mystical Force that binds the whole galaxy together could not possibly be invested in our relationship.”

“Well, you never know,” Kanan said, giving her a cocky smirk. “We are pretty amazing.”

“You are a pain, dear,” Hera said with a roll of her eyes.

“Lucky for you I’m your pain,” Kanan said. Pausing, he asked, “Will you call me love again?”

“Kiss me, love,” Hera said, and Kanan happily obliged.

#kaneraweek2021 #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #swr #star wars rebels #kanera #kanera is love kanera is life #swr fan fic #depa billaba #mace windu #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #padme amidala #okadiah garson #janus kasmir #not my ocs #but someones and they're really great. jk they're accidental-spice's #it was dope. the end #fake engagement

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Text

Demonic Intervention (Indruck)

Prompt for the 7th: “Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.” - The Tempest (William Shakespeare). This fill is NSFW

It can't get much worse.

Indrid is barely scraping by. He can count his friends in town on one hand. He’s gay in a tiny, rural community and one of the few men like him is a goddamn priest. His house is a mess. And his every waking moment is filled with the demons of his past or the devils lurking in his future. There are so many of them in his present too, roaming the streets of Kepler.

What’s one more in the mix?

He lights the stubby black candle by the bed, scratches the symbols on the floor, and retreats into his cocoon of blankets to wait.

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

Duck hates when it’s his turn on the summoning shifts. All this ancient knowledge and power and he’s stuck waiting to see if some yahoo in a graveyard or a wannabe cult leader will call him up into the world.

He has brambles that need pruning, damn it.

His name isn’t well known among humans, so he only gets summoned if someone is just rooting around for a demonic entity without caring who they get. He’s only been summoned twice in the last hundred years. The tingle in his horns tells him it’s about to be three.

The room he arrives in is gloomier than any graveyard; the lights are off, the curtains are shut, and the place looks like it got hit by a tornado with a grudge. By the light of the candle, a pale-haired head emerges from the blankets of the small bed. A hand reaches for the floor, comes back with a pair of red glasses.

“Greetings, infernal one. Thank you for answering my summons.” The man’s voice is flat.

“Even demons got manners. So, uh, what’s the job?”

“There are so many dishes in the sink that the thought of doing them is an insurmountable task. Please do them for me.”

“...You realize I’m takin somethin’ from you for this, right? Like a piece of soul or a month of your life?”

“Mmmm” The man rolls over and says nothing else.

“A day of your life for this.” Duck feels like he should haggle more, but then he’d had to pretend he actually thought a higher price was fair.

“I accept your terms.” A crackle of green and black electricity flickers in the air in the form of Duck’s signature and the other man’s name: Indrid Cold.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

Indrid says nothing. Duck is sure to wash and dry before he goes.

The next day he’s summoned to the exact same room, in the exact same state of depressing mess.

“Greetings, infernal one. Please clean this room.”

“Same terms?”

“Mmhmm” Indrid is just staring at the ceiling.

“You gotta say you accept.”

“I accept.”

Duck snaps, turning on the light, and gets to work. Technically he could do all this with a wave of his hand. But then he’d lose his chance to learn a little more about the guy who’s settled on demonic deals instead of a maid service. It’s the opposite of the usual problem he has in these kinds of situations, where the humans reveal their deepest secrets, desires, and fears within five minutes of meeting him.

The records he stacks near their player, the clothes all go in the hamper to be magicked clean, then are hung in the closet; they’re loose and soft, not a scratchy fabric to be found. Tarot cards and candles abound, as do art supplies, and under a pile of drawings he finds magazines featuring muscular, hairy men in various sexual positions. Some of them even look like his preferred human form, the one he’s wearing now.

He glances at the bed; Indrid is on his side, facing him, must have been watching him at some point but has dropped into a restless sleep. The blankets are slipping, showing a The Sonics tank top hanging off skinny shoulders. Right, that was one of the bands in the record stack.

Duck doesn’t tend to pry into souls or auras or shit like that; there are whole heaps of trouble that lay that direction. But as he flicks the dust from the bookshelf covered in paperbacks, he feels the edges of Indrids and nearly falls on his ass from the wave of exhaustion and loneliness.

When it’s time to go, he pauses to pull the blankets back up around him, sets his glasses on the bedside table, and turns the calendar on the wall from “September 1974” to “October 1974.”

When he’s summoned right back to Indrid’s room the next evening, he spots the same tank top on him as he sits up in bed.

“Greetings infernal one.”

“You can just call me ‘Duck’. It’s a nickname.”

“Oh” Indrid blinks, perplexed, “very well. I, ah, there are some bills that need to be paid to keep the lights on.”

“You need the money for them?”

“No, just for someone to fill out the forms and checks and put them in the mail.”

“Okay. But my fee’s a little different this time: you gotta tell me when you last ate.”

“I accept. I ate this morning.”

Duck snaps his fingers

“Two days ago!” Indrid yelps, then slaps his hands over his mouth. He glares, “why does it matter?”

“Because while I’m payin those bills, you’re eatin’ dinner.”

“Everything in the fridge is disgusting and I can’t go to the store.”

Duck takes the short trip out to the kitchen, opens the fridge to the new sound of Indrid’s footfalls behind him.

“You got lots of decent stuff in here; could make you some eggs?”

“No, thank you.” Indrid shakes his head, looking a bit ill.

“Well, what do you want? I can summon it up.”

“I’m out of Lucky Charms.” The humans says sheepishly, staring at his bare feet.

A fresh box of cereal appears on the table, Duck pulling out the half empty bottle of milk. He thinks back to the drawings he saw yesterday and conjures a bowl covered in a pattern of brightly colored moths.

He gathers the stack of bills of while hearts, stars, and horseshoes rattle into the bowl. After a few moments of crunching he hears, “May I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why is your nickname Duck? Does that word mean something else in demonic speech?”

Duck stuffs paper into envelopes, “Nah. It’s, uh, kinda silly but, uh, most demons learn how to take on an animal form. When it was my turn, they asked me which I wanted and, uh, I said I wanted to try bein’ a duck. Liked it so much I stayed that way for three months.”

There’s an odd, strangled sound that makes him look up; Indrid has one hand over his mouth and is shaking with little squeaks. He’s laughing.

“I’m, I’m s-sorry but, but I, I cannot get over the image of you as a little, feathery waterbird.”

Duck smirks, “Only part that ever gave me trouble was the quackin’; always came out too deep.”

He just manages to pull the envelopes back as milk comes out the human’s nose and he giggles uncontrollably.

“Ow, ow, heeh, oh g-goodness, I’m s-sorry I, I just haven’t laughed in so long, ugh, there’s milk on my shirt-”

“Guess you’re gonna need to shower now too.”

“Nono, I can just change-”

Duck waves the bills back and forth, “Uh uh, if you want me to actually put these in the mailbox, you gotta agree to shower.”

“But that’s changing the terms!”

“Demon.” Duck grins.

“Very well. Let me finish my dinner first.” Indrid scarfs the rest of the cereal, pads back towards the bedroom while Duck cleans the table. He waits to hear water running before going to the mailbox. When he gets back he sticks his head into the steamy bathroom.

“I’m gonna go now.”

“Oh, alright. Thank you again.” Indrid pokes his head out from the shower curtain and Duck resists the temptation to make the whole barrier disappear just for a peak. What can he say? He’s always liked his humans a bit unique looking.

He draws a special sigil in the steamed-up mirror and heads for home.

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

Indrid sets the candle on the table, lights it, adds the symbol he found in the mirror, and then starts unpacking his groceries.

“Lookit you doin’ chores.” The whiff of burnt pine needles accompanies Duck’s voice and draws the tension from Indrid’s shoulders.

“I’ll have you know I swept today as well.” Indrid turns and crunches the bag of potato chips in his fists; Duck hasn’t put his horns or claws away, and his shirt is half unbuttoned.

“Caught me while I was gardenin, which is why I ain’t as put together as normal. What can I do for you?”

“This may sound strange but, ah, what is the fee for just talking with you?”

Duck’s eyebrows shoot up and then he chuckles, “You’re full of surprises, little moth.”

Indrid touches the luna moth on his shoulder; how much had Duck studied him when he was here? Did he like what he saw? Does he give everyone he makes deals with nicknames that come out in a drawl like summer honey?

“Hows a little nibble of the old soul sound?”

“I accept. Ah, would you like some cookies? A friend of mine brought them over to me.”

“Sure. The fella on the fridge bring ‘em?” The demon indicates the picture of himself and Barclay, the one he can’t bring himself to throw away.

“No. My friend Dani, she’s in charge of the gardens for the little co-op in town and when the bakery has seconds she often drops them off for me.”

He really needs to stop staring at Duck’s chest, even demons probably find ogling rude. Duck’s eyes--one blue, one brown-- catch his own and suddenly claw tips are undoing the remaining buttons. Indrid goes pink but manages to get the cookies and two glasses of water on the table without incident.

“You know, you never told me why you stayed a duck for so long.”

“It’s the least demonic thing you’ve ever heard but, uh, I just thought it was nice. Bein’ out in the woods, paddlin’ on the lake and watchin the world go by. Sleepin under the stars. Just makes you feel like you’re part of somethin’ bigger than yourself. Now, I got a question for you; why go to all the trouble of summonin’ me just to do your chores?”

Indrid bites his lip, “I knew I was in the kind of mental place where I could not manage it myself. And it felt safer to ask you than to ask my friends. Not that they wouldn’t help me. It’s just, when my mind is like that it turns so inward I can’t conceive of a world that might contain things for me.”

The demon says nothing for a moment, sips his water with a thoughtful look. Then he sets down the empty glass, “Glad you’re feelin a little better.” He tilts his head to indicate the sketch on the counter, “that new?”

“Yes” excitement bubbles up in his chest, “I was reading about--ah, well, it’s, it’s sort of a long story, I don’t want to bore you.”

Duck kicks his feet up on the spare chair and gestures for him to continue. So he does, tells the demon about reading every book he could find on the mythology and folklore of the Mexico and the American southwest, about his new inspiration for a series of drawings, his worries that no one will like them or purchase them and he’ll be stuck running his little psychic side business until he dies

Duck, in turn, tells him about life as a forest demon, about his hellcat, and about the fact he routinely comes up to the human world for french onion soup because the stuff made in his realm never tastes right. When Indrid next looks at the clock, it’s well after midnight.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

“No complaints here. But I oughta get home and feed Winnie before she shreds my cabinets again.” The demon stands, rounding the table, “gotta get my fee first.”

“Right. How should I…” Indrid stiffens as Duck bends forward, wondering if the sharp teeth that smiled at him all night are about to pierce his skin.

Warm lips meet his forehead and he sighs at the tenderness in the gesture. Duck, however, moans as he pulls back, then quickly covers his mouth.

“Uh, that, that’s a totally, uh, totally not, uh, un-normal reaction, uh, fuck, see you around.”

He’s gone with a campfire crackle, leaving Indrid to wonder how a demon can be such a terrible liar.

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“Sweet fuckin hell.” Duck gasps as his living room forms around him. His lips still tingle from kissing the human’s forehead, from the sheer force of the want and yes that came when he took that sip of soul. It’s never like that, never comes so willingly and eagerly, like the soul is searching for someone to look after it.

Technically, there’s nothing stopping him from zipping right back up there and pinning Indrid to his bed while he takes what the human seems so happy to give.

Duck takes five deep breaths, then ten, and then goes to retrieve Winnie from the cabinet she clawed her way into.

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When Barclay suggested Indrid find someone to confide in, Indrid’s going to guess he didn’t mean, “routinely invite a demon into your house to play cards or listen to music.”

Most times, Indrid isn’t even summoning him; they have two standing dates a week, plus a game night with Dani and her new girlfriend, Aubrey (who Duck seems to know but refuses to say more about how). Duck will sometimes drop by unannounced, and he hardly ever collects a fee these days. When he does, it’s always a taste of Indrid’s soul, taken via a kiss on the cheek.

Indrid would let him take it any way he wanted. He’s well past denying the fact Duck is type in all his forms, that he’s gentler than most humans, and that he’s so charming Indrid would eat out of his hand.

Duck even goes out with him, like the boyfriend he wishes he had. When he puts on his human form to accompany Indrid around town, he radiates enough residual, demonic energy that the people who normally make Indrid’s life a living hell stay far, far away. In fact, tonight is the first night in months he’s had something close to a disaster, and it was mostly an accident. He’s peeling his beer-soaked shirt over his head when he feels mis-matched eyes on his back.

“Have a little too much fun bartendin’ tonight?” Duck holds out his hand, rendering the shirt fresh and clean when it touches his palm.

“Some caveman hit on one of our regulars and would not back off when asked. She threw a full pint of beer on him and I happened to be standing right behind him when she did.” He wiggles out of his jeans, let’s Duck give them the same treatment he gave the shirt, “ugh, I need a bath, I smell like Rheingold.”

“Allow me.” Duck waves his hand and steam wafts from the bedroom, goes into it and grabs the bubble bath from under the sink as Indrid follows him in his underwear. Duck’s constant glancing at his crotch and legs makes him bold.

“What’s the fee for such excellent service?”

“No fee, little moth. I’m just doin’ a favor for my friend.”

“And what if your friend wants to repay you anyway?”

When the demon looks up from the tub, his eyes are glowing, “Only if he’s doin’ it because he wants to and not because he owes me.”

“I want to, so very badly.”

In a flash Duck is in the tub, beckoning Indrid to join him. Indrid tests the water with his finger just to be safe.

“Mmm, nice and warm.”

“Hellfire, sugar. Now get your cute ass into the tub or--oh fuck yeah.” Duck growls as Indrid strips and climbs in with him, drags him into his lap and traces his claws up his sides while Indrid yanks him into a kiss.Curious, Indrid reaches one hand up to rub the base of his horn, the dark brown curls like smooth bark beneath his fingers.

“Fuuuck” Duck groans, “feels like gettin a back-rub.”

“Then I better keep at it. Oh, oh my” Indrid sits back to admire the vines of green appearing in Duck’s skin, “you’re absolutely beautiful.”

“Kinky little thing, you like that I’m a demon.” Duck scrapes his teeth along Indrid’s shoulder, “that really why you summoned me? You were hopin I’d have my, uh, demonic way with you?”

“N-no, I, I, it’s no secret I’m attracted to you but I, you make me feel so happy, I’m so safe when I’m with you, and, and if all your care and affection towards me has been part of some malevolent plan please, please just tell me because I, I think I’m falling in love with you.” He kisses Duck with far more force than before, forestalling the inevitable confession that this was all just a game for his soul and his own, pathetic admission that he’s not sure that changes anything.

“Oh, sugar” Duck keeps brushing their lips together as he speaks, “First time I tasted your soul I knew I was fucked. Knew I wanted to keep seein’ you, even if you never gave me another goddamn thing.”

Indrid buries his face in Duck’s shoulder, letting out shuddery sighs as Duck pets his back. He’s never leaving this spot, Duck is just going to have to carry him about while he does his infernal business and his housekeeping.

“Tell me what you want, little moth.” Duck kisses the shell of his ear. It still tingles, even when his soul stays put.

“Please fuck me? Oh! Oh that’s very efficient and extremely strange.” He squirms in Duck’s lap as his ass turns slick and stretched, like someone has pulled four fingers from it.

“Do it the traditional way some other time” The curved head of a cock bumps his ass, “you wanna feel just to be sure you can take it?”

He flails in the water a moment, finds a warm, responsive shaft with four, bumpy ridges leading to the head. It’s no bigger than the one toy he splurged on during his last trip to the city.

“Yes, certainly, oh, oh, AHHhnnnn yes.” The cock is hotter than his body as it slides in and he wonders if it will just melt him from the inside out, if Duck’s cum will be just as warm, how it will feel on his tongue and down his throat when he drags the demon into his bed.

“That’s it sugar, take it all the way. Fuck, been jerkin off to the thought of you on my dick for months.”

“Nnngh” Is his eloquent reply, the ridges of Duck’s cock making his toes curl and his fingers dig into Duck’s skin.

“You like that idea, little moth? Knowin I could be out temptin anyone I wanted to and instead I was in bed thinkin’ about you?”

“Mhhmmm” He whines, the desire pouring off the demon wrapping around him and soothing his insecurities.

Duck slows the thrusts of his hips and his voice is gentle when he whispers, “Course I did; no one can compare to you, ‘Drid.”

“Ohgod, Duck, please, please, please, want to be yours, always yours-”

“Careful,sugar, that sounds like you’re anglin’ for an infernal marriage.”

“A, a what? OHhhhnnyes” He moans as claws knead his ass.

“It’s a special kind of deal where a human agrees to marry a demon. Soon as they’re dead, they go straight to their spouse, no other options provided.” Duck cups his face, holding it steady so he can look into his eyes, “but there ain’t no need for that right now; way I see it, we can do this like we were just two normal fellas for now.”

“But it sounds fun.” Indrid offers a teasing pout and gets an adoring kiss in return.

“Yeah? What if I tell you a lot of demons mark their spouses by piercing these” He pinches Indrid’s nipples, the pain making him bounce more determinedly on his dick. His demon growls, drops one hand down to thumb at the head of his aching cock, “pierce here too. Won’t even do it in public like you’re supposed to; do it at home so no one else will see just what a sweet, needy thing you are for me--whoah, fuck, did not expect you to cum just from playin with this nice dick a little.”

“V-very sensitive” Indrid gasps against the green swirls in Duck’s shoulder, his orgasm such a surprise he’s still registering it, hips twitching and tongue threatening to loll out of his mouth.

“Keep that in mind for next time. Might even bring a cage so you don’t cum too early and spoil my plans. Now, hold tight, little moth.”

Indrid clings to the warm bulk of Duck’s body as his cock pounds up into him, the demon easily holding his hips up and his ass open so all he can do is whimper and writhe on it. When he cums it’s hot enough that Indrid squirms

“Don’t hurt does it?” Duck pets his sides, concerned.

“Nono, it, it’s nice, just very strange.” Indrid winces as Duck pulls out, watches him wave his fingers to clear away the mess. When the demon makes no move to let go, Indrid looks up, “you really meant what you said? About wanting me as a boyfriend?”

“Damn right I do. Now c’mere, lemme get the beer outta your hair.”

Indrid hums as Duck scrubs his scalp and runs warm water over his skin, talking all the while about how they should go camping as a first date so no one will bother them, says he’ll even turn into a duck to make Indrid smile.

Indrid says he knows just the spot, let’s his boyfriend dry them off and bundle them to bed and then, for the first time, falls asleep with a devil in his arms.

#indruck #promptober #indrid cold/duck newton #Demon AU #monster boyfriend

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takerfoxx · 3 years ago

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The Owl House, Season 2, Episode 1, "Stranger Tides," First Impressions!

Yo ho, yo ho, it's a pirate's whaler's life for Luz!

Now, if you'll recall, a common problem I ran into while reviewing season 1 is that while I was definitely enjoying it, it was so episodic that I often found it difficult to find something new to say about each episode. There wasn't a whole lot carrying over from one episode to the next that I could really sink my teeth into and fill out a full review, with the plot not really kicking in until the final two episodes.

Fortunately, I did not have that problem here, and now that season 2 has started, I have PLENTY to say about its debut episode.

So, this is what you'd expect for the first episode of the new season, an episode basically intended to bring everyone up to speed on how the characters are dealing with the ramifications of the previous season and introduce a few new elements that will set the tone for the season to come.

And basically, things at the Owl House are...not really great. I mean, sure, everyone got away and it looks like Emperor Belos hasn't really made their recapture a priority (most likely deliberately), but thanks to Lilith deciding to share Eda's curse to neutralize it, they both have found themselves powerless. They're not completely without magic, but what they have left is so meager to be practically useless. All expect for Eda's detachable limbs. Those still work. For Luz, as she never had magic to begin with and had to work extra hard to get around that handicap and find ways to keep up with everyone else, that means she's suddenly the breadwinner of the family, the one with the most power despite living with two (previously) notoriously powerful witches, and thus has taken up bounty hunting (sort of ironic, if you ask me). For Lilith, that means coming to terms with losing literally everything important to her, from her power to her position as the Emperor's Coven's poster girl, having been replaced by a spoiled teen prodigy (and oh, ho, ho, we will get to him!) as well as her own feelings of guilt for having cursed Eda in the first place.

Actually, guilt is the main motivator in this episode. Luz feels guilty for having gotten Eda trapped and that Eda now has to prioritize what little money they have for Luz's sake, which motivates her to take on more and more dangerous bounties to try to make it up to her. And Lilith feels rotten for the curse and that the fix ended up sapping Eda's powers, so she's driven to find some way of making herself useful, which fills out this episode's A-plot and B-plot.

Meanwhile, Eda herself is...handling things like a champ, actually. Sure, she's not thrilled about losing her power, nor does she care for the sudden dip in respect from the locals as a result, but she's not wallowing in self-pity. No, she's working and innovating, finding ways to adapt and keep ahead of the game. And to rip off the Empire too, because fuck those guys.

So anyway! Let's start with our A-plot: Luz the bounty hunter. She's doing her best to keep her spirits up and keep food on the table, but bounty hunting is a tough job and because everyone knows that Eda is powerless, the bondsman has no problem ripping them off because he knows he can get away with it. Furthermore, with the portal gone, Luz's messages to her mom aren't getting through, which is weighing on her mind.

Okay, we already know that Luz's mom is probably going to get involved this season. I predict that at some point, Emperor Belos completes his repairs of the portal, and when he does, all those unsent message will suddenly spill out all at once, giving good ol' Mama a heart attack.

Sort've serves her right though, because, you know, G-RATED CONVERSION THERAPY!

But anyway, she overhears Eda talking about eschewing her booze in favor of getting Luz food she can actually eat, so she resolves to make it up to her by taking on the biggest bounty of them all, which so happens to be a magical creature called a Selkie-dama, which requires her to join a ship that's setting out to do that so she could get a cut.

A ship that just so happens to be under the command of Lilith's replacement, who also so happens to be the mysterious spy working for Emperor Belos that we met last season, whom we will get to!

Anyway, they fortunately rush through the bit of Luz proving herself to the crew, because who cares, King finds out agent's private room (in a reveal that calls back to a similar scene in Gravity Falls) and gets captured, and they find the Selkie-Dama, in which Luz shows us how far she's come by utterly wrecking shit.

Unfortunately, the bounty is stolen by a mysterious figure, and Luz isn't about to get ripped off again, so she goes after them, only to find that that SURPRISE, it's Eda, who figured she'd cut out the middleman and just steal the bounty directly, because you have to admit that that does make sense.

But anyway, none of that matters, because that's when HE finally is properly introduced.

Hear that? That's the sound of thousands of thirsty fangirls (and quite a few fanboys and fanenbys as well) shrieking.

Meet the Golden Guard. Yes, he's arrogant. Yes, he's sassy as fuck. Yes, he's voiced by Zeno Robinson. And according to his brief appearance in the OP...

HE'S A PALE-HAIRED PRETTY BOY, Y'ALL!!!

So. We now have this season's small antagonist.

And since Luz is the only resident of the Owl House with any real power (Hooty aside, but we'll get to that) and now with Amity as Luz's close friend (more on that later as well), that makes him Luz's new rival! Ooooh, I can smell the Enemies to Lovers fics already!

Yeah, it's gonna be a HUGE ship, but that's no prediction, everyone knew that anyway.

But while I doubt they're actually going to get together (though count on our bi-queen Luz getting smitten once she sees his face), I do smell a redemption arc for this guy. I mean, why would they make him so likeable otherwise?

Yes, he was a jerk, but he was a jerk in an endearingly entertaining sort of way.

But beyond that, I do note that he also has a tech-powered staff (seems to be the same one that held the palisman that Belos fed off of last season, but with an upgrade), and wields the same flesh-based magic as well. Now, his ears do show that he's not a human, but I still wonder if all that tech magic (which has to be manipulating the flesh of the Titan itself) is either a crutch for the magicless or a shortcut for those who want power fast.

Also, in addition to slotting in as Luz's rival, he also has taken Lilith's place as the face of the Emperor's Coven and also uses Eda's "BYYYEEEEE!!!" catchphrase, he's set up to be a foil to just about everybody!

Anyway, he's not here to take them out just yet, but instead forces them to kill the Selkie-dama. They don't, of course, and instead trick him into thinking that they did, but it does show that 1. Emperor Belos is content to leave them be for the moment, and 2. Emperor Belos is seeking the destruction of magical creatures. Huh.

Also, called it on Luz becoming Eda's teacher when it comes to glyphs.

But speaking of rivals and ships, the question over all of this is Amity, who's been MIA with a broken leg for a while. No doubt she's not going to be upset about Luz being stuck in the Boiling Isles, but if Luz does start crushing on Prettyboy Golden Guard, I can see her feel all sorts of upset about that. I still thinking that Lumity is endgame, but now she's got to work for it, and there is going to be angst.

Anyway, our B-plot has Lilith trying to make things up for Eda, by putting together a scrying potion to spy on the Emperor's castle. Nice, will probably be important later, but the real important part, in addition to her getting over her pride (not an easy thing) was the surprisingly touching friendship she's building with Hooty of all people! I didn't see this coming, but they honestly have some great comedic chemistry.

And honestly, I can see it. Lilith's first introduction to Hooty was him opening a can of whoopass on her and her men, and now he does it again to save her from the fire bees. Sure, he's weird and annoying, but he's strong and competent as hell, something that she would naturally respect. I honestly like what they have building, and the Lulu and Hooticifer nicknames were adorable.

And now, onto our brief glimpse of Belos, who still managed to steal the whole damned episode with just a few words. We see he's gone that long, white hair thing going for him, so not a rogue palisman. So, human or shortcut-exploiting conman. Regardless, just as he seems content to leave the Owl House be despite Luz having the key (which will definitely be important later), he also seems aware of the scrying, and has no problem letting it go on.

Okay, this season is shaping up to be a great one. And next episode is an Amity episode, in which her parents meet Luz, so let's fucking GOOOOOOOOOOO!!! on the Lumity teases and oh God NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! on the awkward cringe comedy that is sure to result!

#the owl house #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #lilith clawthorne #golden guard #hooty #amity blight #lumity #reaction #spoilers

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itsallmightbitch · 5 years ago

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Covert Ops For Dummies (Part 2)

I hope you’re all excited, because the skinny scarecrow man is back and is making panties drop all over the place.

Pairing: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut and swearing. Par for the course with me, kids.

Word Count: 12211, give or take.

Summary: After your little tryst in the closet a week ago, Toshinori has been avoiding you. Hizashi is eager to make back some of the money he lost and you know just how he can help you.

*once again this gif isn’t mine but is oddly appropriate....

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It had been a week since the ‘incident’ in the closet and so far, Toshinori had been… well. If you were honest, you had no idea how he’d been.

He’d been avoiding you.

You weren’t really taking it to heart. At least, not anymore. The first night, yeah, you’d been stuck in your own head, wondering if maybe you’d done something wrong or if you’d been too forward. But the more you’d dwelt on it, the more you had started to realise that this was his thing to work through- not yours.

He could barely meet your eye across the room at the next teacher’s meeting and when he eventually did, his face had instantly bloomed red and he’d choked out some terrible excuse in order to run off early.

You might have been offended if you had thinner skin.

Thankfully, you guessed that it wasn’t your fault that he was acting the way he was. Despite all those little whispered things in the closet, the cold light of day had made him panic. Years of hating himself for being what he saw as weak, his failing health and self-loathing when he was what you’d affectionately dubbed as ‘Small’ Might… that wasn’t going to go away because he’d fingered you in a closet and you’d told him he was still pretty.

It had been silly of you to even consider it.

The long process of getting home after the event had given his brain time to work and time to freak out. Getting past those reporters, the police, the very thankful parents- all of whom wanted to stop him, talk to him, shake his hand.

You just knew that during that, he’d somehow come to the conclusion that what had happened between you was simply you feeling sorry for him and that any affection or attraction you’d shown him was the result of pity.

Pfft, as if.

For God’s sake, you felt sorry for Hizashi after he’d been wrangled out of his money but you weren’t planning on visiting that closet again any time soon.

Like a gentleman, he’d walked you to your car afterwards but even before you’d registered the cogs turning in that big ol’ brain of his, he was making his excuses and blasting off like he was Team fucking Rocket.

So much for dragging him back to your place. You’d watched him go, your mind a jumbled mess of want, hurt and longing.

All of those feelings had ultimately led you here, doing something that you wouldn’t normally ever consider doing. Although, you’d never really considered getting it on in a closet of a strange house before either so…

After you’d given him a brief outline of your plan, and he’d stopped laughing at you, Hizashi had been all too eager to make back some of the money he’d lost to Aizawa. It didn’t take much convincing for him to bend the rules a little. You’d sent him off on his merry way with a few Out of Bounds signs and instructions to get Toshinori up to his office by any means necessary.

His office was nice, you decided as you waited patiently on the couch.

He had an adorable amount of All Might paraphernalia littered around and an American flag was pinned proudly on the wall- next to several framed photos of him shaking hands with other celebrities. But that was nothing compared to his desk.

It made you feel all warm inside, just looking over the few personal photos that were framed there.

A photo of him and young Midoryia, looking very proud of themselves at a beach. He and David Shield, arms slung over each others shoulders and sporting those carefree smiles that youth brought on their faces. A picture of a very stern faced Nighteye that made you mildly uncomfortable as it seemed to judge you through the glass.

Quit judging, you thought. He needs to relax and this is a fucking great way to do it.

You moved on from that one quite quickly.

At the end of the row was that damned faculty photograph that Principal Nezu had made you all participate in.

The one where you’d purposely shoved yourself against Toshinori’s side despite the photographer’s insistence that the shorter of you were to stand in the front. When you’d protested, Toshinori had done something you hadn’t expected him to do, given his disposition for being a wallflower around you.

He’d bent down, his big hands around your waist and suddenly, he was lifting you with ease. Up, up, until he sat you on his shoulder. You’d been an ecstatic mess, a stupid smile on your face and your usually uncooperative wings spread out above the other teachers.

All Might had struck his usual pose, flexing his muscles and grinning- except one of his hands was on your hip, holding you steady the whole time and the sensation of his fingers pressing into you had stayed with you for days.

Thus, the official faculty photograph had been born. The one that all the papers were forced to publish, seeing as you’d all refused to have another one taken.

He could be bold with you when he wanted to be and days like that proved it.

The memory of that day was one of your favourites. Seeing that confidence, how pleased he was with himself over making you smile. It was like catching a glimpse into the past.

You eyed the big, comfortable looking couch in the corner.

That definitely looked sturdy enough-

You didn’t get to finish your train of thought because the door opened suddenly and All Might was shoved inside, Hizashi hot on his heels. He was mid-sentence as he walked in, laughing over something Hizashi was saying and he didn’t even notice you.

“Well, if it’s that urgent Mic, I suppose I can spare a few minutes!”

“Trust me. You’ll be thanking me for weeks to come.”

“Thanking you? Thanking you for-”

His eyes settled on you when he finally focused his attention on the room and his voice caught in his throat, long enough for Hizashi to belt out a raucous laugh. He slapped a hand against All Might’s broad back and then turned his beaming grin to you.

“One Number One Hero, delivered as promised,” he waggled his eyebrows. “You kids have fu-un!”

It was a good thing you hadn’t gone with your original plan of greeting him in lingerie.

Before you could even think about reprimanding Mic, he was gone, leaving behind nothing more than a smoke trail and Toshinori looking for a means of escape. You made sure he knew that it wasn’t going to happen, quickly positioning yourself between him and the doorway. Despite his unlimited strength, you knew that he wouldn’t barge you out of the way just to save face.

Like you’d said before. He was too much of a gentleman.

“You. Sit. Now,” you pointed at the couch, using your best angry voice and you swear that you saw him swallow hard, eyes trained on the carpet as he followed your instructions and seated himself on the plush cushions.

“I um, didn’t think you were working today,” he muttered, rubbing one hand over the back of his neck and fidgeting with a button of his suit with his other. Another part of your absolutely diabolical plan. You’d purposely left your car at home that morning, so he wouldn’t see it in the parking lot.

“Well here I am,” you said shortly. “It looks like cornering you seems to be the only way I’m going to get you to talk, so... yeah. Talk. Why have you been avoiding me this week? I was starting to think I had the plague.”

Both true and untrue. You knew why, deep down.

“I haven’t been avoiding you-” he spluttered.

You inwardly rolled your eyes in exasperation. While it was nice of him to try and spare your feelings, he was an absolutely awful liar when he wasn’t prepared.

“Liar.”

He winced like you’d struck him and you softened your tone, realising you’d have to approach this differently. You couldn’t just wrangle the answers out of him like you could with other people. Sometimes you wondered what he’d been like, back in the days of his youth when he was saving people with a smile and that villain hadn’t yet darkened his door.

Had he been confident about his body? Had wild romances and broken a slew of hearts on the way?

Maybe.

But… even then, he didn’t seem the type to do things like that. He was a man married to his work, with too much empathy for others to go around breaking hearts. That’s why you knew full well that him avoiding you hadn’t been to intentionally hurt you. Looking at him now in his muscular form, still almost too embarrassed to look you in the eye- you wondered if anyone had ever told him that just being him was enough.

You wanted to climb into his lap and show him it was enough. He was enough.

On the other hand, he kind of deserved to sweat after the week you’d had. Anxious, confused and unbelievably horny. A barrage of almost hourly daydreams, most of which involved his hands in some way, shape or form.

Your marking scheme had gone straight to Hell- especially after you’d set your students an essay about a hero who had inspired them. Half of the papers had been about All Might and you’d thrown A’s left, right and fucking centre at them.

Even the terrible ones.

The nights held no reprieve either.

There hadn’t been one that had gone by where you didn’t wake up, breathing hard and sweating like you’d just run twenty blocks in the midday sun. It was exhausting. It was like your body was always on edge, longing for another touch, another look.

The constant nervous tension was getting to you and your concentration had suffered for it.

All because Toshinori Yagi had fucking fantastic hands and was withholding access to them.

You had to shake yourself to bring reality rushing back.

“So… what? You just get me off once and then run for it? Is that how it is, Toshinori? Did it really mean that little to you?” you asked inspite of yourself. You hadn’t actually meant to say those things.

You hadn’t even realised that you were this upset about it. So much for not taking it personally. His head shot up, eyes wide with surprise when what you’d said finally registered.

“You could have just told me. You didn’t need to- I dunno. Spare my feelings,” you said, quietly.

“What!? No! Tha- That’s not it at all!” he yelped, standing from the couch with surprising speed.

“Then what is it? Did you not enjoy yourself?” you said and rested a hand in the centre of his chest. His whole body tightened under your palm, like every muscle was being electrocuted just because you were touching him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, watching the red rising up along his neck like he was going to start blowing steam from his ears.

“Of course I enjoyed it,” he said at last and to your surprise, his voice didn’t shake once. His hand did though, when he brought it up to cover yours. “Every second of being with you like- like that,” he said and swallowed hard. You tilted your head to the side, eyes searching his face. “Things were just a little overwhelming, especially after Eraserhead finding us. I don’t deal with things like that well.”

That was an understatement. You gave him an understanding half smile. It had been embarrassing for both of you.

You had studiously avoided Shouta for the better part of three days and it only just dawned on you that Toshinori had probably done the same. Not that Shouta seemed to care much about the whole thing beyond getting his money.

He hadn’t mentioned it again.

“Look, Toshi, I get it okay? Heh, at least I think I do-” you tried, sighing when the words refused to come. Maybe it was because of the low, dull throb between your legs or maybe it was because he looked so damn good in that suit but you were distracted. “But I’d prefer it if you talked to me about it instead of hoping it’ll just go away.”

“I didn’t want it to-” he started, but then stopped himself. “I thought things would be alright between us if I just stayed away. A dumb plan, admittedly,” he flashed you a sheepish smile and squeezed your hand in his.

“Listen,” you said slowly, “Could you maybe, you know, shrink down please?”

He shot you a bemused look and you could guess it was the same as the look he’d given you back in the coat closet the first time you’d asked. It wasn’t something that many people asked him to do often.

“What? Why?” he asked, clearly caught off guard. Good. That gave you a higher chance of actually getting him to do as you asked. It felt like you needed to prove a point. That you were interested in Toshinori too- not just All Might. “I still have a few hours to go…”

“Does it make you uncomfortable? You don’t have to,” you acquiesced, although reluctantly. You knew there was a line for him but... as much as you wanted him to be comfortable with you, you didn’t want to have sex with him now if he was in his muscular form. It would entirely defeat the purpose of you being here.

“No, no, it’s alright,” he said after a beat and to your relief he did as you asked. The room quickly filled with smoke.

He didn’t actually lose much height on you, you noticed, once you had wafted the smoke away and he’d recovered from his coughing fit. Straightening up from where he’d been bent at the waist, you thumbed a line across his bottom lip absently, wiping away blood.

“Sorry,” he grunted, scrubbing his hand over his face to make sure there was nothing left. It had sounded painful and you knew it happened often.

“Are you okay?” you asked, searching his face. Your hand still lay on his chest, thumbing absentminded circles against his shirt and he met your gaze with those vivid, strikingly blue eyes that always took the words out of your mouth. Your stomach swooped in your gut and a low, excited throb pulsed between your thighs.

The longing ache from earlier worsened.

“M’fine,” he said softly, not looking at you any more but at the blood on your hand instead. A forced, incredulous laugh made it’s way out of his mouth and it instantly set you on edge. That was not the way he usually laughed. “So kid. Is this better? Am I any easier on the eyes?” he asked and the questions were tinged with a bitterness you’d never heard from him before.

You didn’t like it at all and the question got your back up almost immediately.

“Yeah, actually it is,” you answered defensively, eyes narrowing as though daring him to argue with you.

He laughed that not right laugh again and it was like ice.

“Is that right? Well. Take a good look,” he said and stepped back, arms splayed wide. The suit that would have usually been stretched across his broad chest, hung on him now. His expression was far from the usual happy go lucky Toshinori that you’d fallen for. He really was full of so much self-loathing that it astonished you. The number one hero, Symbol of Peace and saviour of Japan- hated himself. Really hated- and that twisted your stomach painfully.

“Is this really what you want in your bed at night?”

Your face dropped, expression full of pain. But not for you. For him- because he really did believe that he wasn’t good enough in this form. That he was somehow lesser.

He must have seen the hurt in your eyes because his expression softened all of a sudden and his arms dropped back to his sides. He looked away, ashamed of his outburst.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, exhaling tiredly. “I shouldn’t be taking my insecurities out on you. It’s not your fault. I guess this isn’t what you expected after everything, huh?”

You had been silent for a few moments but that question needed an answer.

“Yeah.”

He looked up at you, confused.

“Yeah?” he parroted.

“I want you in my bed every fucking night,” you said breathlessly and without giving him any more time to over think, you yanked him forward by his tie. He crashed into you and before he could say anything you were kissing him hard, tangling your fingers in the soft hairs at the base of his neck.

He only flailed a little bit much to your amusement and eventually his fingers wrapped over your shoulders, finding purchase.

You only pulled back an inch or so to breathe before crowding him, not giving him a single moment more to be down on himself, or to cast doubt on your very obvious intentions. You wouldn’t hear another bad word about himself come out of his mouth.

The back of his legs hit the couch and he stumbled, landing with a little ‘oomph’ and the adorably dazed expression that you’d kissed onto his face.

You wasted no time and straddled his thighs, one arm braced on the back of the couch beside his head and the other blissfully free to roam across his chest.

“You’d never break a promise to a fan, would you Toshi?” you murmured, purposely being vague. He looked confused, his head cocking to the side as he managed to focus on your words instead of the fact that you were in his lap.

“I made you a promise?”

“A million orgasms? Remember? I do. It’s all I’ve been thinking about,” you admitted, fingers toying with the knot of his tie. Idly undoing it and then his shirt collar, you ducked your head and trailed a line of kisses across his throat.

It was true. Every moment, every spare second of every day, that promise had taken up your thoughts- as well as all the ways he could fulfil it. With his hands, his mouth, his cock. You had been a woman possessed.

Toshi’s hands were almost burning as he slid them up along your back and a delicious shiver raced along your spine.

“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly and you stopped your assault on his neck, lazily bringing your face up to his. His expression was earnest prompting you to press another kiss to his lips, sweet this time instead of hungry. You knew from his tone that he was being honest, serious. “I’m sorry for- for avoiding you like a coward. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t want you. I did. I do. I just-” he paused, head falling back while his hands came to rest on your hips. “I dunno. I don’t know what to say to you, sweetheart. You could do so much better.”

“Bullshit,” you said sharply, trying and failing to stop your voice from sounding angry. How could he ever think that? After all the things he’d done? The sacrifices he’d made for others while he kept the world safe? And always, always with a smile.

“You’re a good man Toshinori. If everyone could be a little more like you, then the world would be a fucking awesome place to live.”

“Thank you but that’s not what I meant. I do appreciate it though,” he said, smiling at you as his hand came up to cup your cheek and he swept a thumb over your cheekbone. “I dunno if you’ve noticed but I’m old kid. Past my prime. You’re…” he trailed off with an almost disbelieving laugh, his eyes roaming over you from where you were seated in his lap, up to your face and back again.

You flushed under his appreciative gaze, well aware of what he was thinking of when he looked at you like that.

“Younger,” he managed at last. “Gorgeous. Sexy. A million other things. I-”

He stopped himself, meeting your wide eyed look with an honest one of his own. You had been rendered speechless, the caress of his eyes like he was running his hands over you. He’d never opened up this much and you were drinking it all in- thinking of ways to tell him he was wrong and all the while trying not to preen under his compliments.

“I’m terrified.”

Not what you’d been expecting. You blinked stupidly at him for a moment before those unused gears in your head finally began to be useful again.

“Terrified? Of what?” you asked, confused as all Hell. “Of wanting me? You can’t really think that it’s so out there. Age differences don’t matter to me-”

“No, not that. Look,” he said, his blush adorably bright as he tackled your questions. You shut up for a moment at last, letting him talk. “I haven’t had someone look at me the way you did last week in- in years.”

His eyes darted down to his side and you followed his gaze- well aware that he meant since before he’d been injured. Before he’d almost died, was the silent addition and you felt an uncomfortable unease when you thought about him not being here any more.

You distracted yourself, focusing on the sound of his voice instead and enjoying the soft vibrations you could feel through his shirt.

“Definitely not when I’m like this. Although, All Might stills gets plenty of attention,” he said with a roll of his eyes, obviously fed up with it all. “I can safely say, no-one has ever shoved my hand down their pants and let me touch them like you did. Not when I look the way I do now.”

While you were immensely proud of your own confidence the week before, you still couldn’t quite grasp what he was trying to tell you. Shifting in his lap, you leaned into the hand that hadn’t left your cheek.

He gave you a pointed look and suddenly, it clicked.

“Wait... you’re telling me that you’ve never had sex in this form. Ever,” you deadpanned, disbelief evident in your voice. It was almost unthinkable, to you anyway. But the way he looked at you was proof enough that he wasn’t pulling your leg.

A wave of cold washed over you as it slowly dawned on you that the first action this big, lovable sweetheart had gotten since he’d been hospitalised had been a quick fumble in the dark with your angry ass.

The least romantic thing that could ever have happened in the history of fucking humanity- and yeah, you knew that was dramatic but what the fuck!? All of this, with the added bonus of one of his co-workers eavesdropping not ten feet down the hall.

Shit.

If you’d have known then… then, you would at least have burned a fucking candle or something. Put up a little mood lighting! Or at least checked to see if anyone was listening.

The knowledge that he probably didn’t even mind your advances and poor planning made you feel even worse. He’d just gone along with it.

“I did try, you know?” he said uncomfortably after a drawn out moment of you silently freaking out. You reluctantly came back to the room and sucked in a breath, attempting to not look too panicked. This did not sound like it was about to have a happy ending. “After psyching myself up for days I actually got up the courage to go out to a bar like this. I even approached a few women but-” he trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

“Did it um… go well?” you asked and he laughed, but it was humourless. The same kind of laugh from earlier that had chilled you. He softened though, noticing the look on your face.

“No, kid. It didn’t go well.”

“Oh,” you replied, voice small.

“I’ve never had a woman look at me like she was, I don’t know. Repulsed, before,” he threw the word out like it meant nothing but fuck, it felt like he’d hit you. The air vanishing from your lungs in an instant. He just tossed words like that around and had no idea how much they affected you. “It’d always been so easy for me but after that night… I just never wanted to feel like I did again. So I didn’t try.”

When he finally looked up at you, he almost jumped, the emotions written clearly on your face.

You weren’t gonna cry. You were not going to cry. Fuck. Too late.

Scrubbing at the corners of your eyes, you sniffed hard and turned your head away from his startled expression. You couldn’t look at him, sitting there, so sweet and earnest and lovable. You couldn’t think about it, about him going home alone that night and wondering what was wrong with him.

Thinking he wasn’t good enough as he was.

It was too painful.

“Shit! Are you alright!?” he choked in alarm, ducking his head around until you were forced to look him in the eye. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Swallowing back your stupid tears, you nodded and wiped your arm across your face.

“Those people were fucking morons,” you managed savagely after a moment of silently collecting yourself. That was one of the nicer words that came to mind. You didn’t want to say what you actually thought because you didn’t want to start on a vulgar rant that could last for, easy, an hour.

His smile brightened your mood though.

“Huh, well,” he laughed all soft and embarrassed like, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. “It’s nice of you to say so- but even if I had gotten further than asking for their numbers... I don’t think it could have gone anywhere. My confidence was just shot. This…” he gripped his side softly, eyes darting down.

He trailed off, not finishing his sentence but you got the gist of what he wanted to say.

That scar that haunted him both mentally and physically was hard to forget about. The constant elephant in the room, whether between you and him or him and his career. You couldn’t do anything about that second one but, at least you had a little bit of power over the first.

Ignoring your whirling emotions for a moment, you managed to calm yourself enough to talk properly.

“Hey, look at me, big guy.”

You used the nickname you used when he was All Might. Big guy. He always smiled when you called him that- and not that well practised hero smile either. A real smile. The one that made your heart skip a beat.

Now was no different. The corners of his mouth rose slowly and then he was gracing you with a soft, gorgeous grin that lit up the fucking room.

You almost forgot what you were going to say. His eyes tentatively met yours and the words came back to you, despite how heavy your tongue felt in your mouth.

“Toshinori, I know this is hard for you, okay?” you said, swallowing back all the words and emotions that threatened to pour out of you and picking your words carefully instead. “I know you’ve had bad experiences in the past and it might be difficult to trust me... but you’ve known me long enough now to know that I don’t fuck around with things like this. I would never hurt you like that.”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” he replied lowly, and his forehead fell against yours.

While he didn’t look entirely convinced, his body did relax somewhat between your legs and he actually tilted forward to kiss you- which sent a little thrill along your spine. You were happy to accept it.

It became heated quickly, the palm of one of his hands pressing between your shoulders to bring your body closer to his. You arched your back, your stomach and breasts plastered to his front by the time you tore your mouth away to breathe.

The hard line of his cock pressed up between your legs, giving you a good idea that his body’s needs were far outpacing his reluctant thoughts.

“You make me so fucking hot, Toshi,” you muttered and he captured your mouth again in another searing kiss, his free hand carding fingers through your hair. It was soothing and you found the tension you’d been holding in your shoulders all day, easing.

“You sure you’re not trying to kill me?” he replied when he pulled back, his voice hoarse and needy at the same time. You bucked playfully in his lap and tugged at his open shirt collar, bringing his face close to yours.

“Like I would kill you before I’ve seen you naked,” you pointed out, as though it was obvious.

Despite the entire conversation up until now and the fact that you were sitting in his lap and raring to get this party started- he still flashed you an uneasy smile at the mere mention of him getting undressed.

Thankfully, you were more than prepared for this eventuality. You had put a little bit of thought into this other than, ambush him in his office and ride him on the couch.

Although, you got an A for the plan so far.

“Hey, look at me,” you soothed reassuringly, lifting his chin with your finger. He did, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Don’t sweat the small stuff. We’ll do this one step at a time and you can stop me whenever you want. I won’t be upset, okay?”

He nodded, looking at you with fucking hearts in his eyes. You knew your expression was much the same so you could hardly tease him about it.

“I’ll even go first to ah- make you more comfortable,” you shot him a wink, smoothing your hand over his cheek. You knew how self conscious he was but you weren’t about to let that spoil his good time. If he was more comfortable being fully clothed and you being naked, then so fucking be it.

Besides, the thought made you kind of hot. It was like being called to the principal’s office for being naughty-

Oh. Wow. There was a fantasy that was just waiting to be explored. There was time for all of those things later though. Right now, this was about him.

Your offer of getting naked didn’t seem to rid him of his nervous tension though. If anything it made it worse. You slid out of his lap all the same, subtly surveying him.

A gut wrenching rush of heat and wetness spread between your legs when you did.

All he was doing was sitting there and he was managing to turn you into a needy, aroused mess.

Granted, he was very, very attractive to you right now- even if he might not think so.

He was reclined back, his cheeks pink and his hair a mess from where you’d been gripping handfuls of it. His lips were well kissed and his chest was rising and falling rapidly- tie hanging loose around his neck. His legs, all long and lean were falling open and the hard outline of his cock was straining against the fabric, ready to be free.

Honestly, it was a miracle that you could stand up at all, let alone be moderately sexy while you stripped for him. But by the time you were naked- your panties thrown over your shoulder to land on his desk- he was as equally fucking ruined as you were.

He’d clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles white and his teeth gritted like he longed to reach out and touch you but wouldn’t do so without permission.

Feeling oddly confident despite the difference in dress, you stepped between his legs and waited as he trailed his eyes up and over you.

“You can touch me, ya know,” you reminded him after a moment. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and slowly- oh so fucking slowly- he reached out a hand and rested it lightly on your stomach. His hand was big and his palm hot when he splayed his fingers out and they brushed the undersides of your breasts.

It was no wonder you’d been a little sore the day after your excursion in the closet. His fingers were long and there had been many times that you’d become hyperfixated on them before now.

“Is this better?” you asked, voice husky and hopefully sexy.

He glanced up at you face, giving you a nervous laugh.

“You’re beautiful,” he said reverently, his gaze wandering in a heated path from your head to your feet- lingering on your breasts and then on the apex of your thighs.

His hand slid to your hip and with a strength that belied his skinny frame, he tugged you back into his lap. You laughed as you stumbled into his embrace but it quickly morphed into a moan when his mouth closed over your nipple.

His other hand came up to cup your breast, his thumb sweeping a wide circle over the peak and you could do nothing but whimper like an idiot in heat as he lavished attention on you. The sweet pull of his lips, the sharp nip of his teeth and then the soothing stroke with the flat of his tongue had your head swimming while long fingers worked you diligently.

You could feel your arousal threatening to drip along the inside of your thigh, sticky and hot and you wanted him to feel it too.

On the other hand though, you didn’t particularly want to ruin his suit pants. You’d already made him come in his hero outfit and the dry cleaning for that material was probably expensive as fuck. It was only that vague thought in the back of your head that made brought you back to reality and tug on his hair to get his attention.

He glanced up at you with a hum of questioning.

Leaving one last longing kiss between your breasts, he reluctantly pulled away and let you attach your lips to his again. He was deceptively good with his tongue, you thought suddenly. You could hardly wait for him to eat you out.The thought made your thighs quiver in anticipation and it wasn’t abated when his hands slid along the back of them and then up, covering your ass.

His fingertips dug into the soft flesh, pulling you closer.

The slow build of confidence you were seeing was addictive. You wanted him to show you just what you’d been missing these past few months. You wanted him to make you scream like you had in that closet and the mere thought of his fingers sliding into your aching pussy made your head light.

He might not have done anything like this in a few years, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a few tricks up his sleeve either.

His mouth dipped to your throat and that son of a bitch knew how high you wore your shirts because he stopped just below an invisible line and promptly sucked a dark mark into your skin. Your pussy clenched around nothing longingly and you fisted your hand in his shirt, unable to even protest.

The thought of being marked by him was simply too arousing.

“Toshi,” you admonished playfully, pressing a kiss to the side of his head so he knew you weren’t actually mad. He gave a coy laugh, humming against your skin and you felt him smile rather than saw it.

“Sorry kid,” he rumbled, fingers squeezing your hips now instead of your ass. You kind of missed the grip he’d had on you, keeping you close to his eagerly straining cock. Fuck, you wanted to take him inside you as soon as possible. “I got a little carried away.”

“You know, you’re going to have to stop calling me kid eventually. Otherwise this might get weird,” you pointed out, trailing your gaze over his flushed face. He gave you a lopsided, sheepish smile and the tips of his ears went pink.

“Force of habit. You are younger than me, you know.”

You tutted and rolled your eyes but your half smile gave you away.

“Come on, Toshi. You act like you’re ancient sometimes. Live a little, old man.”

He laughed. A genuine, full laugh that had you not knowing whether to cry, kiss him or just ride him until you were both exhausted. Then to your surprise, he wrapped you up in his arms with a playful growl and kissed you.

Oh yeah, number three was definitely winning.

Even though you were naked and he wasn’t, you didn’t feel the kind of reluctant embarrassment you might have felt with anyone else. Toshi was the last person who would ever judge you and knowing that bolstered your confidence enough to tug his face up to yours.

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Wanna know a secret?” you asked, noticing the moment his eyes became entranced by your mouth. He made to move forward- almost not hearing your question- but your hand on his chest made him stop.

“Huh? You have a secret?” he said and when your smile turned wolfish, his grip tightened where it was already digging into your waist. If it was nerves you weren’t sure but you said nothing about it.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this all week. Sneaking into your office and fucking you.”

“Oh?”

He might have aimed for nonchalant but he missed by a mile, his voice cracking a little when he swallowed. You watched his Adam’s apple bob and heard the sharp little inhale of breath that hitched in his throat. Your tongue swept over your bottom lip now, keeping his attention on your mouth.

“Do you remember that day in the teacher’s lounge?”

The day he’d stood like an awkwardly adorable beanpole in the corner while the principal talked, looking everywhere but at you and then had split before you could even talk to him. He shot you a very apologetic look when he remembered his behaviour but you shut him up before he could say anything about it- your finger trailing across his lips lightly.

“The whole time, I was thinking about sucking your cock.” He choked out a noise but you hushed him, not quite finished with your story yet. “Just, getting on my knees and taking you into my mouth... Honestly, I was super unprofessional.”

A giddy little thrill ran through your body at admitting your little secret fantasy.

To your surprise, he didn’t pop a blood vessel like you thought he would. Instead, his eyes darkened and slowly, tentatively, he drew the finger that you were tracing over his lips into his mouth. A fresh wave of arousal washed over you at the unexpected, but welcome, turn of events.

With your other hand, you slowly began to undo the buttons on the front of his shirt.

Even though his eyes were trained intently on your face, he didn’t protest or ask you to stop- much to your relief. He released your finger with a soft, wet pop and in a bit of a daze, you made quick work of his tie.

Instead of throwing it to one side, you circled it around your neck and let the soft, smooth material fall between your breasts. His eyes followed it and you were glad to give him something else to focus on other than the slow exposure of his chest and stomach.

“Does it suit me?” you asked, the tip of your tongue pressing against a sharp canine and your expression scandalous.

He snorted, unable to stop himself from laughing at your ridiculous expressions.

“It’s never looked better, that’s for sure,” he said, his hands sweeping up along your sides to press your breasts together around the soft line of the tie. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he muttered, half to himself and half out loud. Then his whole face went beet red when he realised that you had heard him- like you would be mad at him for saying it.

On the contrary, a rush of affection filled you to the point that you simply had to lean into him and nuzzle a sweet kiss to his mouth. You butted your forehead against his gently, your noses touching.

Jesus, just how blue were his eyes?

Button by button, his shirt fell open between you and by the time you were finished looking at him like he was offering you the moon, you could see the barest glimpse of the dark pink, shiny skin peeking out from one side.

You made sure that you didn’t let your gaze linger for a moment more than necessary.

Instead, you focused on everything else that you could see.

You found yourself pleasantly surprised. For a man as skinny as he was- his body was mostly lean, solid muscle. While you could just make out his ribs, the rest of him was nicely built. You trailed a hand along the newly exposed skin, all tan and warm under your touch. You followed a path down between his pectoral muscles and across the still faintly defined six pack that he was sporting.

When the muscles twitched under your hand, you threw a playful glance at him.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” you said accusingly, a throaty chuckle slipping out when he looked confused. Exhilaration mixed with adrenaline was making you giddy and before he could say anything remotely bad about himself, you swooped forward and kissed him- pressing your naked form against him and rolling your body into his embrace.

You wanted him, needed to feel him everywhere. You couldn’t get close enough.

His arm came up across your back, fingers splaying between your shoulder blades as he held you firmly to his body.

After a moment of slow, lazy kisses, you coaxed his tongue into your mouth to encourage him to him take the lead. Sure, showering him with compliments and telling him how much you were enjoying yourself was all well and good- but there wouldn’t be anything better for his confidence than letting him take control of the whole thing.

Besides, you were happy to have him set the pace if it meant he was relaxed with you.

“I want you on top of me,” you murmured and you gasped when his mouth suddenly dipped to the hollow of your throat. His tongue laved a line from there, across your collarbone to where he bit down lightly on your shoulder. “Toshi?”

Saying his name seemed to finally awaken something in him because you were suddenly scooped up into his embrace and a second later, you found yourself looking up at the ceiling- encased in the lush cushions you’d been admiring earlier.

They really were as comfortable as you’d thought they’d be.

You were quickly distracted from you admiration of the furniture by a hard body slotting between your open thighs. He loomed over you, one big hand planted firmly in the cushions beside your head and the other suddenly cupping a handful of your breast.

It was quickly becoming apparent that Toshinori was a breast man.

He palmed each one softly, expertly and your nipples pebbled under the ministrations. He cocked his head, eyes fixed on your tits like he wasn’t planning on leaving them alone any time soon.

He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging it gently a few times before moving to the other to give it the same attention.

You were breathing heavily by the time his fingers slid away from your nipples to the forgotten tie that rested in the valley of your breasts. Well. You’d forgotten about it while he was lavishing attention on you. Clearly he hadn’t.

While he watched your expression, he deftly tied a knot to secure it around your neck.

Hnng.

You went utterly boneless, especially after he gave it a playful tug and it slid ever so slightly tighter around your throat. Sparks ignited in your stomach and flitted down between your thighs, tingling and tightening muscles in their wake.

Well, that had been unexpected.

You wanted him to do it again but lacked the diction to actually tell him and a low, eager whine escaped instead of words. He shot you a pleased smile and then sat back onto his knees, his shirt now hanging open to reveal his stomach.

This time, you made sure that he knew where you were looking as your heated gaze sank downwards, lower and lower- drinking him in.

The difference in dress must have finally gotten to him, especially the way he was staring at you and suddenly he was undressing, agonisingly slowly with his eyes on yours- and all you could do was lie there, a soaking mess of wordless wonder.

He took his time with it and even though you knew it was partly because of his insecurities, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was subconsciously teasing you. You certainly felt teased with every new inch of skin revealed.

His rumpled suit jacket was thrown over the back of the couch carelessly and then he was finally shrugging out of his too big shirt- only sparing a quick, curious glance at your face as he did. His cheeks were still bright pink but he said nothing- letting his actions speak volumes.

He paused only once when he finally reached his belt buckle but you fixed him with a dark, heated look that spurred him to continue.

Never had you been so aroused by watching a man strip before.

Long, clever fingers slowly undid the buckle and the memory of those same fingers driving you to orgasm had your hips bucking involuntarily. His movements slowed as he looked away from what he was doing to your face.

What a sight he made, you thought idly. Kneeling over you, his pants splaying open at the top and tented under the heaviness of his erection. He followed your gaze, coming to rest where you were looking and then, to your surprise, he palmed a hand over the outline of his cock- almost as though he was showing off.

You swallowed hard, making a noise of impatience.

His lips quirked noticeably and he went back to work, tugging off his shoes and socks and then going back to his trousers.

Finally, he was naked. You sat up, reaching for him to bring him back to you, missing the heat of him on top of you. He followed you, nudging your thighs apart to kneel between them.

His cock was thick, bobbing softly under it’s own weight and he gripped the base, stroking a slow line up along the shaft and then back again. A silvery bead of pre-cum leaked from the tip as he pulled his foreskin back, dripping down bit by bit until it threatened to fall.

You desperately wanted to catch it on your tongue, take him into your mouth- but this moment was his now. Your control had been handed over.

His scar took up a solid chunk of his torso,splashed across what was once smooth, unblemished skin. The wound had clearly been deep- and yeah, you didn’t really know all the details of how he’d gotten it but you could guess that it had been an agonising experience. It didn’t bear thinking about.

The fact that he was here, that he was alive and warm above you was a testament to how amazing he really was. To have gone through all of that and survived it,come out fighting on the other side… He was astounding.

“You with me, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice smooth and sweet, hovering hesitantly above you with his cock in one hand and the other gripping your thigh. You met his gaze solidly, a salacious grin splitting your face.

“I’m right here,” you said softly, shimmying closer and bringing your knees up snugly against his hips. That was an invitation if there ever was one.

“We can still stop if you want to-” he said, trailing off. You were both naked, inches away from each other and he was still trying to give you one last out. One last opportunity to change your mind.

Like you would.

He released his hold on your thigh, his hand cupping across his side and his eyes searching your face, the worry in them palpable. Was this suddenly too much? Were you coming to your senses at last?

Clearly slipping into deep thought had made you look reluctant to continue- in his eyes at least.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, your voice playful but laced with an underlying seriousness. “Toshinori, I’ve been getting myself off all week because of you. You don’t think I deserve a little something for all my suffering?” you asked quietly, before dipping your hand between your legs to rub a slow circle around your clit.

It was a delightful feeling, pleasure igniting as you settled into the familiar touch- only made all the more intense knowing that he could see you doing it. He watched, breath bated and his shoulders tensed as you touched yourself- strokes lazy and unhurried.

Nipping your lip, you tilted your hips upwards to give him a better view. Your thighs fell apart and you slipped your fingers lower, finding slick wetness and pressing inside.

A gasp clawed up your throat without you even thinking and you sank two fingers in, practised and confident in your own expertise.

To your delight, he forgot all of his insecurities for a moment. Long, nimble fingers folded around his cock and he began to stroke himself- all while intensely watching you masturbate for him. His thick moan split the air and it was like music to your ears.

It was very arousing, watching him jerk off over you. Because of you.

“Please Toshi,” you said, breathlessly. “I need you.”

His answer was a filthy, eager groan and without any more thoughts of stopping or worry about what he looked like, he moved forward and pressed the tip of his cock between the swollen lips of your pussy. You jolted, inhaling a sharp, stilted gasp of pleasure at the sudden touch.

“Please,” you chanted softly. “Please, please, please-”

“Fuck,” was his choked response, the blunt head of his cock sliding through your wetness and bumping against your clit. He did it again, then again and you quickly realised that he was watching the expressions on your face intently. Once more, to draw another groan out of you and then he was pressing inside- pushing you apart and filling you inch by inch.

Your thighs trembled around his waist and your head pressed into the couch below when your back arched.

“Oh, Toshi!” you cried, pleasure racing through you. You were suddenly thankful that you didn’t have to worry about making too much noise. There was nothing holding you back here.

He was stretching you far more than you’d thought he would and it very quickly toed the line between pleasure and pain. The adage that skinny guys have big dicks was definitely holding true because damn-

It was almost too much but then he made a noise of absolute bliss and buried his face against your neck, teeth scraping your skin in a playful bite and you relaxed- just enough to feel comfortable taking him in further.

His breath was scorching and you could feel the silent tension building in his arms- in the hand that was holding your hip up from the couch. He carried on inspite of it, sliding himself into you even further, deeper, making you crazy.

He watched your face the whole time, drinking in your expressions.

Eventually, he bottomed out and his pubic bone pressed against you, signalling that he was as deep as he could go.

Your head span in delight. Toshinori, the man you’d been yearning for for months was currently balls deep in you- his breath catching in his throat and his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to bruise.

The mere thought was enough to make you clench around him and his hips jerked reflexively. Red flushed across his cheeks as he fought with himself not to do it again.

You stroked a gentle line down his back, fingertips dancing over his vertebrae one by one. As you went lower, you were constantly interrupted by the smooth skin of multiple scars and you wondered briefly just how many he had.

But then he grunted softly into your ear and brought your attention back to the here and now.

A shiver ran through him and you felt it- from your fingers to your pussy.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice uneven as you tried not to shift your hips too much. Every movement, every sharp breath he took, ground him hard against your clit and you were beginning to throb with the unreleased tension.

You didn’t want to come too soon. You wanted this to last for as long as it could.

“Y-yeah… It’s just-” he said as steadily as he could, nuzzling his nose across your cheek as he semi-avoided answering your question. “S’been a while sweetheart. I don’t want to, um-”

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. Ah, you hadn’t even thought of that.

Hadn’t he made it perfectly clear that he hadn’t seen any action in a while? It would make sense that he would be a little over sensitive the first time. The thought of him losing control came unbidden and you couldn’t deny that it turned you on. Warmth and something else- something foreign rose in your chest and you cupped his cheek, tugging him down for a lazy, unhurried kiss.

“Take as long as you need to, baby,” you said, squeezing softly around him and he choked out an embarrassed, almost nervous laugh.

Whether it was over your not-so-accidental slip of the tongue or the current situation, you didn’t know. Probably a little of both.

But if he got to call you ‘sweetheart’ and make you all pathetic and needy, then you could return the favour you decided.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he said, his breath catching when you hitched your legs higher again over his hips. You grinned up at him, circling your arms around his neck and stroking your fingers through his hair.

“Believe me, Toshi. I’m far from uncomfortable… I like having you inside me,” you murmured, peppering little kisses down, from his bottom lip to his chin, and then to his sharp jawline. He slid his hand up along your side, sighing almost contentedly against your hair. “Feel so full. So good,” you continued, nipping at him teasingly.

“Y-yeah?” he said.

“Fuck yes Toshinori,” you sighed a pleased, longing sound and rose your hips a little to make sure he was as deep as possible.

Having him resting inside you, all hot and hard was doing things to your head. Your inner muscles flitted and spasmed around him, relishing the stretch and while you could hardly wait for him to move- simply having this, being with him like this… it was so much more than you’d ever dreamed about.

Far better than your wild fantasies of destructive fucking and hot rendezvous. Those were great, yeah and you had no doubt that you would get him there eventually… but this…

Oh. This.

It was real and he was here in your arms, looking at you with an expression akin to adoration. Giving him the confidence he deserved to have was more than you could have asked for. He nuzzled you again, stroking your hair away from your face and then pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You giggled, a noise that you would never have made in a thousand years in public. But it made him grin, all big and happy and then he moved his hips and your world went quiet- soft and hot and spinning all at the same time.

It was just the two of you, here in this office- in this little bubble that reminded you of the week before. His forehead was pressed against yours and his fingers were roaming across your skin with an impassioned eagerness- thumbing over your nipples and then sliding between your bodies to rub circles against your clit.

His hips snapped suddenly against yours and it drove him home inside you. You arched up, pressing your slick stomach against his. You could feel the rough texture of his scar against you and when you opened your mouth to suck in a shaky breath, he found it with his and stopped you in your tracks.

He found a good rhythm fairly quickly, breathy sighs escaping him with every roll of his body into yours.

It had already been a warm day and was even warmer in the office, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

Your hands found purchase wherever they could and eventually, one drifted up along his injured side without you even thinking. He didn’t stop his thrusts but they did slow, his steady rhythm faltering a little bit. You realised what you were doing and your eyes found his, arm suddenly tense. You didn’t want to move your hand- wanted to feel all of him, every part.

You never wanted him to feel repulsive again. Ever.

However, Toshi said nothing.

Instead, his eyes bore into yours with a deep, bone shattering intensity. Fuck that was hot. He didn’t take his gaze away from yours for a second and it was like you were in a trance as he reeled back slowly- oh so fucking slowly- before slamming back into you.

The sudden force of the thrust rattled your brain and it also tore a frantic, strangled sound from your throat.

Pleasure rocketed through your body and when he did it again, you knew to expect it and rolled with him, timing it so you met him halfway. He grunted, his jaw going slack and his eyes squeezing shut as he concentrated on the pleasure he was taking from your body.

Your name fell from his lips and hit you like warm summer rain on your skin. You answered with a cry and a garbled mess of pleading- begging him to take you harder, take you faster, love you, fuck you- please, please-

“Baby, please,” you sobbed as he switched to shallow, half halting thrusts. He barely pulled out at all with every stroke and it seemed as though he suddenly wanted to be as close to you as possible.

You only just managed to register what happened next.

Warmth engulfed the hand that you’d kept on his ruined side and you eventually managed to break through the haze of pleasure in a moment of lucidity, glancing down.

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest, then regained it’s pace and thundered hard against your rib cage.

Toshi’s big hand covered yours, pressing your palm against the one thing that made him the most vulnerable. It was an incredible show of trust from him and you lunged upwards with your free hand, pulling him into a frenzied, hot kiss- almost letting out a sob into his mouth.

He moaned and your tongue met his, replying with a choked, needy groan of your own.

“Perfect, you’re perfect baby-” you said hurriedly, feeling the winding, throbbing tension in your groin building to a release.

His hips stuttered as you spoke and you knew that as much as he was trying to hold back his climax, he wasn’t going to last much longer. You wanted to see him come. Wanted to see the desperate, sweet pleasure in his expression that you’d caused him.

As though he’d read your mind, he glanced down between you to the sight of him sliding in and out of you, then back to your face.

“You haven’t-” he choked, clearly realising what you were trying to do. You squeezed hard around his cock again and his next sentence cut off midway with an almost agonised moan. “Fuck, you, you haven’t come yet.”

“I will,” you murmured reassuringly, already nearing the peak. You needed to see him. “I will, I promise. I wanna see you come Toshi,” you pleaded, one hand stroking his side gently and the other tangled in his hair to keep his face close to yours. He looked like he was going to argue some more but you kissed him hard, all tongue and teeth and his whine was music to your ears.

His pace turned frantic as he did as you wanted, chasing his orgasm with a fury.

His hips slapped against your ass and you could feel your arousal dripping out of you, covering you both and making every thrust sound slick and wet. Obscene noises filled the little office and the heat drove you both onwards- a writhing mess on the couch.

He tensed suddenly and a long line of expletives mixed with your name, turned the air blue.

Toshi came hard and the look of sweet ecstasy on his face was glorious.

His body shuddered, throwing his hips forward in small, shaky movements as he came inside you. Wet warmth spread between your legs and that, coupled with the grinding against your clit was enough to send you where you wanted to go.

Your orgasm rose in easy, pulsing waves like water breaking on the rocks and he kept up the soft circles on your clit all the while- guiding you through it. Your inner muscles fluttered around him and he huffed out a laboured breath, his arm shaking under the weight of keeping him upright.

As your orgasm slowly receded, you relaxed backwards and released a breath you hadn’t even realised you were holding. Cheeks red and hair a mess, Toshi stared at you the whole time- his expression gravitating between satisfaction and disbelief.

“You okay?” you asked, knowing full well that he was hovering between both yes and no. Now that the haze of lust was gently dispersing, the fact that he was naked and very much exposed to you was probably creeping back up on him. “Hey, look at me Toshinori.”

When he did as you asked and his eyes met yours, you flashed him a sly grin and tugged him down to lay on you. His arm gave out and he landed on you with a startled noise. Laughter bubbled out of you at his surprised expression but it quickly turned to one of fond affection instead, when he realised that neither of you were freaking out.

He wasn’t as heavy as you’d thought he would be and his body fit nicely against yours.

You could feel come dribbling out of you and down to the couch below, his softening cock still very much inside you. Neither of you had the energy to do anything about it though which, hey, was a real shame because this couch should honestly be in a fucking hall of fame somewhere. At least, in your opinion.

Presenting it to said museum might pose a bit of a problem.

After a long moment, filled with gentle touches and kisses, he finally spoke, rising up on his elbows to come face to face with you.

“Hey.”

You were pretty sure you looked like a mess- having just been royally fucked on a couch in the middle of the summer heat. But the way he looked at you made you feel like a movie star or some shit. His eyes sparkled with something unspoken but pleasant and you couldn’t stop the giddy smile that broke across your face.

“Hi,” you managed to say at last, stroking his hair away from his forehead. “So um… are you gonna thank Hizashi after this? Because you probably should.”

His laugh was loud, energetic and happy. He laughed like he used to and it drew all sorts of emotions that you’d been holding back to the surface. You blinked hard, feeling tears forming in the corners of your eyes when you did. Damn, stupid emotions, you thought bluntly.

So you buried your face into his neck before he could see your tears. You didn’t want him thinking that he’d done something wrong and you didn’t want to explain why you were crying like an asshole after really great sex.

“I’ll send him a card,” he chuckled, hugging you close to him and that just made the tears come harder than before- but you curled closer and discreetly wiped your eyes. His hand swept up along your side and you both lay quietly for a moment, you collecting yourself and him basking in the blissful afterglow.

It took you a minute to get your emotions in check but you did eventually and soon, it was becoming far too warm laying underneath him. As reluctant as you were to move, you nudged him and he took the hint- slipping out of you at last and rolling to the side.

You shifted, pillowing your head on your arm. It was, thankfully, an easy task being face to face with him while you were both horizontal. He grinned, mirroring your pose and for a few moments you both lay like that- his free hand tracing lazy circles against the softness of your stomach.

In the warmth of the room and the heat from his body, it would have been easy to drift into a dozy sleep but you resisted the pull of exhaustion.

Instead, you trailed a finger across his scar, finally taking the time to look at it properly. He tensed more out of habit than anything else, but said nothing to stop you as you explored. You were almost fascinated by the pattern it made. Like a sunflower burned into his skin.

“I would punch them,” you said finally, looking back to his face and finding his expression light and almost pleased.

His eyebrow quirked in curiosity, a half smile forming on his lips.

“Punch them? Who?”

“The person who did that to you. I would punch them. So fucking hard,” you said firmly, with a conviction you didn’t know you possessed. His expression softened and his gaze dipped to your lips as though he wanted to kiss you. Then, he remembered that he was technically allowed to kiss you and so he did, dipping forward to find your lips- languid and hot.

“No need to, kid,” he said when he pulled away. “I already did.” Pride tinged his voice when said that. “Besides. I would never let him get close enough to you to punch. Never.”

He gave you a stern look but it didn’t hold much weight seeing as his hair was sticking up in every direction and you were both still very naked. It was difficult to pull off serious when you were naked. True facts. Sliding your thigh between his legs, you watched his expression change from serious to amused when you waggled your eyebrows at him.

“Heh, you liiiiike me,” you singsonged childishly and he snorted, rolling his eyes as though he could deny it. “C’mon Toshi,” you jabbed him lightly in his uninjured side and he jerked, choking out a laugh. He was ticklish it seemed. “Admit it. You wanna kiiiiiss me-”

You were abruptly and very rudely, in your opinion, cut off when he did just that. But you were both smiling too hard for it to be a proper kiss- simply giggling and laughing against each others mouths.

Your teasing had clearly lightened his mood even more and honestly, if you could make him look like this every day for the rest of your lives, you’d happily do it. In the back of your mind, you wondered if he’d like that too.

You hummed a pleased sound, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” he said. He didn’t elaborate which part he was talking about, but you didn’t mind.

Either one was good for you.

#all might x reader #all might #bnha #toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori yagi #BNHAFF

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whet-ones-write · 4 years ago

Text

Fixing Kai - a Overhaul x Fem!Reader

First posted on my AO3 and forgot to post here- lmao Whoops! Anyway Enjoy! Warnings: 18+ NSFW / Surgery mention / Binding - Being Tied down.

Word Count: 3446

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“You know that’s not very nice.” You said as you looked up at the masked villain above you. “I fix your arms time and time again, and this is how you treat me?” You sigh, shaking your head. “Glad to know i’m appreciated around here.” Rolling your eyes up at the figure above you as he got up with a grunt.

“Now Kai, you need to sit and get your rest. I know that’s something you don’t want to do but you tore yourself up pretty badly.” And as much as you knew it, he probably would not listen to you again, which is why you used your quirk to make sure he stayed in the bed he had already stained crimson with blood. “If you keep moving you could re-open the wounds I've stitched up and don’t even get me started on your bones.” You growled quietly as you shifted your stance. “Still, there’s no need for these bindings eh Angel?”

“You could be a good boy and stay put.” Even with the scolding it did not change the fact that you did not budge or remove the bindings. “I know you better than that.” He smirked as you took a seat at your desk, hunching over and looking over his charts. “The moment I let go, you’ll go for your knives and try and hurt me for tying you up like this, even if I am your precious Angel.” You mused, clearly unimpressed with his attempts of flattery.

“And such a special Angel you are.” He sighed happily as he lay back watching you. “You don’t break like anyone else and you’re oh so useful to me. You take care of me like no one else does.” He offered charmingly.

“Yeah and no one fixes your messes like I do eh?” Rolling your eyes you leaned back in your chair. “If it weren’t for me you could be bleeding out right now. Not only that, getting you out was hard enough; having you imprisoned like you were. Still, you need to take at least a week's rest rather than getting into fights.” You started to explain much to his dismay.

“Your arms are rather fucked up, but I'm getting close to making a break though.” You informed him. Glacing to you, it was clear you had his interest. This meant you could let the bindings go and like the good boy was going to be, he could remain as you explained.

“I’m close to getting your new arms compatible with your quirk. We know that you had to touch someone for you to use it, so naturally even though mentally you wanted to use them you couldn’t, something was missing.. With your blood samples I have been able to determine that not only mentally do you need to be willing to activate it but it also lies within your nervous system. Although you have robotic arms which you can use, we know from practice that you can’t use your quirk just yet and because of the lack of connections.” Scratching your head you flipped the page as he continued to listen to you clearly excited for the possibility to be back to normal.

“So I’m going to need you to be in top physical condition so I can perform the surgery needed to make sure you can use your arms and quirk to its fullest again. I can’t give you any anesthetic at the time of the surgery because if I did, I can’t be sure if your arms will be connected to your nervous system as well as your brain realising you have your limbs back. They’re just a few days away so when your bones are healed we can give it a go, you should be able to help cure the world again should it all go according to my plan.”

“I knew I could count on you, my Angel. I thought I had lost all hope when I was trapped in that God forsaken prison.” He stated as he glanced over at you. “It was so bright and so lonely there by myself. I couldn’t even feed myself at the time. They forced me to have a pump to my stomach for it to be filled with food, I had almost missed chewing and tasting food.” He admitted thinking back on the several months he spent there. “Then again I suppose it was also my own fault over the fact that I trusted the bastard Shigraki but still, he will get what’s coming to him for double crossing me.” He smiled at the thought shutting his eyes as he relaxed back. “He will be one of the first ones I cure. He’s such a sick little boy isn’t it? Always scratching, so dry and flaky. Yes, he shall be the first to be cured once I am able to. Give him some moisturizer at that.” He mused as he opened his eyes to you.

He wasn’t one for feelings too much, he didn’t have time for them unless he was trying to get others to help him, he could pull at other’s feelings but rather not show that particular weakness himself but there was something about you that just made him sick. Love sick that is, and he knew there was no cure of this illness but he did not mind. Sometimes you have to be sick in order to get stronger, and that’s how he viewed this situation. It was not often you were in trouble but when you were he would always be there to help. His sickness made it so your protection and safety was more important than his own. On top of that you believed in him which is why you gathered other’s to help him break free.

Even though all that though you never gave up on him, and what was his dream soon became the both of yours. You were the one that built his very first arms, and something that he would always treasure before he was able to get into contact with some people that could really make a difference for him. After all in this day and age, a loss of a limb should not keep a sick human down, so why should someone like him that doesn’t suffer, be handicapped.

“Well it still won’t be for some time yet.” You explained as you rubbed your temple. “You still have to heal as much as you can while we wait for your arms to come in. I will have to make some adjustments to your shoulders, neck and head and it will be risky but the pay off? It’ll be life changing that’s for sure.” You mused before leaning back and looking at him. “You’ll have cybernetic arms, that has your blood flowing through them and on top of that you’ll be able to use your power to cure again.” Smiling at that statement, you got up to turn off the lights. “So rest well sir, the sooner you heal up, the sooner we can get you all better.” Smiling as you left him alone in the room so he could think it over.

Yes you were so beautiful in your working uniform. A plague mask much like his own but pure in white, to symbolise your cleanliness, the light in the darkness of his goal, as well as matching your white lab coat, announcing to others you were his own private doctor and he’ll be damned if the black trousers you wore got him all hot and bothered. Still a temporary cure will come to him soon enough for his love sickness. He can and will show you just how much you mean to him and how damn sexy you look in your uniform.

~ ~

When the time came for the surgery you were more nervous than anything. What if something went wrong?. What if you were not quick enough and ended up having him bleed out? You did not have anyone to assist you if something went wrong, because anyone else would just get in the way of what you were trying to do. It seemed simple on paper what you had to do but working on an actual body was different. On top of that you had done some test runs on some animals to try and help them get back to what society saw as normal and after a few attempts, things looked up for the better but the failures still weighed heavy on you and even Chisaki could see that.

You were stuck scrubbing your arms as you mutter to yourself about the process, what you had to do to an obsessive extent before your trance was snapped, bringing you back down to earth and looking at him.

Having placed a kiss on your cheek gently, he looked over you with a small sigh. “Do not fret. I do not die so easily.” He smiled at that, leaning in and kissing your forehead. “I am all healed and ready for this. I know the risks. I know what might happen but Angel, I trust you like no one else.” He explained as he took a seat on the operating table “You’ve been there with me right from the start. Through thick and thin and you have been there healing those in need. The children I've brought to you as well as my fellow colleagues that needed treatment. You are the best that I trust and you have the best equipment we can afford. You’ve looked over your plans obsessively to the point I'm sure you’re speaking them in your sleep. You’ve got plans for every eventuality, there’s no one I love and trust more to do this then you. You have this, just stay calm, relaxed and I’ll be happy to talk the entire time. After, if I stop talking I might just be brain dead, and I’m sure you don’t want that now hmm?” Teasing, you sighed in response, shaking your head. He was always like this in tense situations between you both, just trying to find the light side of life with smiles and laughs.

“Even so, if you’re ready I am, and we can begin.” You stated, waiting for his go ahead. Letting him remain sat up, it meant you could work around his back and shoulder completely so you can get to exactly where you need to be.

“Of course Angel, lets begin.” He smiled, keeping his eyes open as he watched the door behind you as you began your long and painful work.

“Okay Kai, I’m going to go collect the shopping that we need but I want you to remain in bed.” You tell him as you step around the room; laid on the soft and clean bed, Kai was still resting post-op some time ago.

“I ain’t going anywhere any time soon.” He replied, letting out a low sigh as he shifted in the bed. Even though no anaesthetic could be used during the operation, you had given him some after; he needed time to recover and relax after all.

However you knew what he was like, you knew what would happen if you left him alone for more than a handful of minutes. With a slight tap of your chin with your gloved finger, you made your way over and gently placed his new wrists into the restrains.

You had all of them fastened before Kai realised what was going on, quickly fastening the last restraint over his chest and tightening it enough that he could not move more than he needed to.

“Hey! What’s the problem! Unfasten me! I said I won’t move okay!”

“I know that Kai and I trust you but, you know what you’re like. Plus if you move more than you need to it could cause damage to your new limbs; irreparable damage. I would be negligent if I let that happen. I’ll only be gone for about half an hour at most. Just… Sit tight okay?”

With a soft sigh, Kai looked away; pouting like a child as he grumbled a “Fine” under his breath.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be long. I tell you what, I’ll bring you something nice.” Winking your grinned as you shut the door behind you letting him get the rest he would need still.

~ ~

You ran back as fast as you could, how could today have been so… so… He was going to kill you! You knew it!

You just could not get away, every time you were due to get away from someone you were once again dragged away; you couldn’t exactly tell them that you had one of the biggest criminals tied down in one of your off the books surgeries could you?

Busting in through the door and dropping the bags you were carrying, your eyes landed on the empty bed and the removed restrains. “Oh no…”

“Oh no indeed.” A voice spoke from behind you and quickly spinning on your heel you were face to face with Kai.

“Oh thank goodness Kai, I am so sorry, I don’t know what happened and-” Your words were quickly cut off when you were pushed back onto the bed.

“Oh yes, you will be sorry. Five hours, FIVE FUCKING HOURS I was left on the bed!” He turned his head slightly and gritted his teeth under his mask.

“Please Kai, I’m sorry. I tried to get away and they kept…” You began but could not finish as you were pushed back again. As you fell back on the bed, Kai gripped your wrist and began to strap the restraint over it.

“Oh you’ll be sorry. We’ll see what you can do to make it up to me for this.” He grinned under his mask and walked around the other side of the bed, quickly grabbing your other wrist. In a panic you kicked and yelled but he was much stronger than you, even with his new arms and post op recovery.

“Kai… Kai… What are you doing? Untie me. Please.” You begged but he just towered over you at the foot of the bed.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you Doc, I’m just going to make you regret keeping me tied up for five hours.” He leaned forward and tapped your foot. “Just sit tight okay?”

The breath in your chest hung as you thought what he could do, the punishments a villain like him could put upon someone; you had seen him seriously hurt many people. He wouldn’t do that to you would he?

Closing your eyes tight as he leaned over, you were surprised by what he did first.

Laughter burst out of your lungs as he began to tickle your feet, under arms and under your kneecaps. Why did he know exactly where to tickle you! Stretching up and pulling at the restraints you laughed hard, coughing and choking as you tried to breath. Finally begging to stop worked as he stepped back. Circling the bed like a vulture in the desert with its prey in sight, Kai stopped behind your head, leaning over he looked at you and pulled his mask away slightly before removing your own for you.

“Don’t worry Angel, I’m not going to kill you, or hurt you. Why would I? I’m just going to make you wish you’d never locked me up.” He grinned and gave your forehead a soft peck.

Staring up at Kai, you were speechless, a hot flush running along your cheeks at the kiss off your forehead.

“Look at you, all red and flustered, you’d think that you had a crush on me.” Kai grinned as he towered over you. Your eyes quickly turned away as he mentioned it.

“Yeah… that would be silly.” You mumble and Kai let out a loud laugh.

“I’m not stupid you know Angel, I know you like me; I mean…” He reached out and flicked his finger; a loud gasp left your lips and you looked down at your body to see you flushes stained cheeks. “You really like being tied up don’t you Angel? Have you ever tried it?”

Nervously you nod. “A few times… but…”

“But what? You’ve never been with anyone for long?”

You nod slowly and bite your lip.

“Me too.” Kai replied and sighed. “Look Angel… I… I might be a bit of an arsehole but… I appreciate everything you do… and… I… I kinda… like you too.”

The two of you were silent as you stared up at him and he stared down at you. “Well… you… You have me here…” You mumble and then could not believe you said it. With a surprised smile Kai looked down at you.

“Oh really now? For such an innocent doctor you really are needy aren't you?.” He laughed and grinned, slowly one hand went out of view and your vision went dark as something slapped you on the face. Warm, musky and… and… Wide eyed you stared up at Kai as you realised what was on your face.

“So… if I was to put my dick here, what would you do?” Kai asked and you breathed slowly, nervously, you turned your head and opened your mind. The grin on Kai’s face as he stepped back slightly and thumbed his tip to your lips.

“Good doc…” He purred and slowly began to slide inside your own lips. You’d never done this before in this position but already you wanted more. You were pretty skilled at this without your gag reflex and as Kai grunted, he reached out and put his hand on your bulging throat. With several slaps of your face with his balls, you could feel him tensing and getting faster.

The warmth and suddenness of the act left you coughing and for once; gagging as your airways were filled. Stepping back and accidental slapping and dribbling over your face, Kai panted as he held himself up by the nearby wall.

“Damn Angel… you… you’re…” He panted and after managing to cough and swallow as much as you can, you whimpered the words quietly. “Please… fuck me…”

Kai stared over at you as the grin on his face began to grow. “As you prescribe doctor~.”

Now laying on your front, the slap against your rear stung but… felt so good. You had dreamt of this in the dark nights and late work hours when you were alone, now it was going to happen and here you were; tied to a medical bed. This was not exactly the romantic night you expected; no dinner and no dancing, no long cuddling and foreplay; unless you classed the teasing as foreplay.

‘Oh god, that had been foreplay.’ You thought as you tried to look back at Kai, the way you were restrained meant you couldn’t turn your head very far. You saw his shoulder and his arms moving, grabbing something from the cupboard before turning back to you. A soft splurge noise and then a cold feeling down the crack of your rear. A soft gasp left your lips as you shuddered at the feeling.

“Oh don’t be such a wuss Doctor, it’s only a bit of lubrication; unless you want me to go without?” Kai asked with a teasing tone to his voice.

In a soft squeak you found your voice whimpering out. “N… no…”

“Alright then.” Kai whispered and let his hand drop his cock down onto your waiting hole. You felt the heavy weight on your cheeks, the warmth passing through the cold lube and to your now chilled rear. The air in your lungs hung deep and you had to think hard to remember to breathe.

“Ready Angel?” He asked in a soft tone and you nodded, letting out a soft whimper as you did so.

The first bit of pressure began and you closed your eyes, soft breaths and relaxing thoughts as you tried to loosen your body. The only issue was it did not stop, you tried to relax but the pressure built and built; when would that damn head pass!

When it did, the feeling of the pop through your body and the sudden half-thrust brought a loud gasp from your lips.

“You sound so cute there Angel, you enjoying it?”

“Hmm hmm.” You manage to reply.

“Well let's let you relax and get used to this, because I’m going to give you this and then I’m going to wreck you. You want that?”

“Hmm hmm.” You manage to reply again. Kai let out a soft chuckle and began to buck his hips.

The night could not last long enough.

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Text

multifandom soulmate aus ✨

soulmate (n): a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.

✨ a/n: hello hello!! today on, “Ro’s self indulgent fics” ehehe i’ve been thinking a lot about some of my favorite kpop besties and how i feel like sometimes in a group, there’s the members who just stick like glue and it’s kinda like they were destined to meet that way! anyway hehe this concept is so fkn cute to me so i wanted to make some poly r-ship headcannons with some of my favorites!

➛ disclaimer: the pairings that i use are def not all inclusive of all “soulmate” pairings out there, just the ones i know of atm! also, i know some of these groups better than others, so some will be more specific, and others a little more general!

✨ groups included: stray kids, ateez, the boyz, monsta x, seventeen, txt, bts

✨ feedback is always appreciated! who’s your favorite?✨

➛maybe if we’re feelin’ spicy i can do a part 2 with the ones i haven’t done yet ;)

Pairing: idol x female reader x idol (see fandoms above!)

Genre: fluff n’ smut

Tags: established r/ship au, poly r-ship, sexual content (the usual stuff also including unprotected sex-please stay safe!) comfort ahhh, mentions of food alcohol

*all photocreds go to ops :)

both sfw and nsfw under the snip snip!

♡ chanlix ♡

sfw

omg where the hell do i start with chanlix we love our cannon soulmates

arguably the softest fkn pairing on this list; being soulmates with chanlix is like meeting your other halves (thirds?). there’s some serious destiny at work here!!

the three of you understand each other on a spiritual level--almost to the point where you could likely read their minds if you wanted to try haha. there’s also a really, really strong type of emotional intimacy that you share with them that’s out of this world.

this soulmate bond is so fkn strong, the three of you could go through any hardships and come out of it stronger than ever!

the three of you have cute lil nicknames for eachother that you thought up yourselves!

your families are close as heck! it’s really pure how by the three of you so many people can get close ahhh

i think that chanlix would be really into more outdoorsy dates? camping, swimming, hiking, sightseeing, stargazing, picnics etc! felix also loves taking you on food tours!

bc chan is chan, he really takes on such a protective role over you and felix, he would quite literally do anything for you two: forgot your notebook or documents on the way to work/school? he’ll drop everything to bring them to you. sad? he’ll get you your favorite food, tons of blankets, his hoodie to wear and your favorite movie/tv show to watch with you! if anyone hurts your feelings too he will square tf up.

felix is the world’s most adoring boyfriend in so, so many ways. not only is he such a cuddle bug, he shows you that he cares with tons of acts of service similar to chan! this comes in the form of his baking of course and other silly little gifts he sees that reminds you of him. he isn’t the best at words sometimes, but will soothe you by giving you a little massage or by playing with your hair!

nsfw

okay...😏 damn i’ve been wanting to write some poly chanlix so fkn bad ahhhh

once again i really see chan taking the lead in more intimate situations. he really likes giving directions and seeing both you and felix carry them out! honestly he gets a bit of an ego boost seeing the both of you all whiny and fucked out ahhh

here i come with my softsub!felix agenda oops hehe but this boy is frickin’ angelic for you and chan oml, he always asks for permission before he does things and eats praise up with a fkn spoon. praises alone really get him off: “does lixie like it when i play with his cute cock like this?”

there’s something that gets the three of you ridiculously amped when you do all kinds of roleplay scenarios FRICK some favorites are pet play (you and lix being the kitties) teacher/student, roleplaying strangers, sex slaves, artist/muse, oh my god there was a halloween where you once did vampire roleplay you still think about it 🤤

since the three of you are so comfortable with eachother, experimentation feels really safe! for example, the suggestion of shibari came up and now....let’s just say lix looks really pretty tied up ;)

chan’s got a huuuuge (cock) and size kink!! he really likes topping both you and lix and seeing a bulge omg.... also when he can bulge your throats mmmhm!

felix loves it especially when you ride his face, and he cold do it for hours! he looks so cute between your legs when he licks over and over your clit. he’ll ask you too if he’s doing good and you better say yes ;)

favorite position would be all cuddled up and cozy with the two of them double penetrating you real nice and slow with tons of kisses and just touchin’ all over

cockwarming cockwarming all day, every single time, without fail, it feels wrong if you finish without it!

♡ woosan ♡

sfw

idk why but the first thing that comes to my mind is that in certain settings, ya’ll are loud as fuck AHA i guess what i mean to say as that as a trio, you are all super, super unapologetic and confident when around each other! this might have lead to you getting kicked out of a couple bowling alleys and karaoke places before...

there’s a type of unspoken understanding that the three of you have that makes your bond so special. while you love eachother so dearly, it isn’t something that you really feel needs to be said out loud, it kind of just is!

woosan are already really clingy on their own and when you come along?? you all can’t keep your hands off each other!! ya know how in movies there’s the whole “hand in the back pocket of your jeans???” woosan!!

their energy together is so fkn chaotic but that's why you love them! they never fail to make you laugh and this is also the best way that they know how to cheer you up!

Bc the three of you are a bit unbridled, it’s a bit hard to be serious at times when you go on dates/hang out with friends together so often you get some affectionate eye rolls haha

wooyoung is someone that will try anything with you! hehe even if he knows that he mind not be that into it, he’ll still go with you! of course, he might say something snarky but he really does love just spending time with you! wooyoung also shares you with all his friends (changbin, yeonjun) so lowkey it feels like you’re one of the bros at times LOL

san is a big fan of giving you gifts! oh also! words of affirmation too, san is someone who knows your insecurities well, so hypes you tf up all the time!! he especially loves buying things for you that he knows you’ll look pretty in just so he can compliment you ahhh

at the end of the day however, there’s nothing more more that the three of you love than the tightest cuddles ever as you fall asleep! honestly, sometimes its a little too tight haha

nsfw

THESE BOYS FKN RAVISH YOU LIKE YOU’RE A FIVE COURSE MEAL

and of course they expect the same from you as well! i mean....can you blame them??? these boys are sexy as hell and they frickin’ know it!!

i have this super clear image of both of them stripping you down and rubbing massage oil all over your body and then giving you the turn to do it to them my lord...

sort of along this line, temperature play makes these boys feral. wax, ice, blowies with popsicles you name it

both of them really just like being touched all over because they have the prettiest dancer’s bodies and just feeling hands on their muscles makes them loose it.

wooyoung loves to mark the hell out the both of you in a really territorial way: all over your chests and necks even on your thighssss

san, while he often does find himself in sub space, really easily can switch to dom you in the most beautiful way. everything with him is really intimate and raw: if this wasn’t already obvious haha he would like have a hand kink and loves seeing the way that his fingers look pumping in and out of your entrance and how your juices look as well.

back too wooyoung, he’s the king of oral. whether it’s going down on you and sucking at your clit or deep throating with master level skill...foreplay is never boring with him!

in my brain, i can see the both of them filling nearly position so this makes for an interesting dynamic to say the least AHA

every once and a while, they’ll let you take complete control of the both of them while they just sit back and watch you with the most smug-ass grins that you’ll see in your life!

AH another thought: woosan fkn love when you squirt on them, in any way this might look: when you’re nearly screaming in your overstimulation they want it all over them.

favorite position would be 69 threesome style with all of your sloppy moans in-between <3

♡ moonbae ♡

sfw

HEAR ME OUT the king of soulmates that know that they are soulmates but don’t take it seriously in the slightest istg this is my most favorite dynamic ahhhh

there is not one dull day with these two boys, they’ll have you laughing in stiches until you can barely breathe like, the best kind of wheezy, silent laughter ya know what i’m talking about

INSIDE JOKES literally so many inside jokes with the three of you

Kevin is never scared to call your ass out, but that’s bc he knows you so well!! it’s all just jokes don’t ya worry ;)

Along this line, your groupchat like has some random-ass name that’s also an inside joke

Jacob on the other hand is the biggest sweetheart when it comes to you, boy frickin’ melts. There is not a day that goes by when he hasn’t told you he loves ya morning and night.

Also the best listener in the whole world, you can tell him anything and everything and he’s just sit and listen and give advice.

Kevin loves you a ton a ton but just shows it differently! He remembers all the little things about you that you tell him to the point it’s scary how he does it so well

Meme king Kevin would send you memes that remind him of you and Jacob

Lowkey i can see the both of them getting into the cutest petty arguments like which one of them you love more or think is more talented AHA again it’s all in good fun hehe

it goes without saying but...it’s cuddle central up in here.

THEY WOULD SERENADE TF OUT OF YOU oh my god it’s literally heavenly, Kevin would play piano and Jacob would play guitar FRICK

You have oddly specific dates?? Like they would pick a movie to go see that the three of you would all hate just to meme the whole time. Jacob would still get invested accidentally tho.

The way to both of these boy’s hearts is their stomachs so when you cook for them they would quite literally do anything for you

nsfw

ok ok so i’m a baby deobi so this is the gist of what i’m getting (i also did a little research LOL thank you @ deobi smutblr hehe)

firstly i would like to say that i’m manifesting thigh riding with Jacob and i literally can’t think of anything else for some reason just p h e w and BOY does he love it too he thinks its so fkn cute to watch you!

i get heavy, heavy switch vibes from Kevin with maybe some sub leanings??? either way, jacob def has soft dom vibes (oh god and occasional soft sub) to me but also has no problem with you taking control and doing what you like to him if that’s what you desire!

kevin is impatient impatient and does not do well with your teasing. also...loud as hell, like, sometimes you have to tell him that he needs to calm tf down hehe (but of course you love it when he gets like that)

separately, both of them are very different experiences i think: kevin is a fan of hard and fast, kitchen counter over the sofa type stuff sloppy toppy in risky places, and he loves to experiment too!

jacob is also really different where he likes much, much more slow and intimate stuff like missionary, shower sex, real atmospheric stuff like candles and nice scents ahhh BIG fan of really fluffy pet names too like baby, princess, angel etc. super visual too omggg gets hard when you strip for him i think ;)

together it’s a fkn whirlwind i’ll tell ya that. its like, honestly the most unique experience i can think of on this list because the two of them are so different. i will say that it can end up being really giggly and sweet tho!

when it’s the three of you, kevin’s dom side comes out a little more so you’re left with these two lovely boys who want to give you all the attention! it’s lowkey a competition lol

favorite position is when you’re sucking jacob off and kevin gets to do literally whatever the hell he wants with your pussy...i imagine that it might have to do a lot with edging if you ask me ;)

♡ jookyun ♡

sfw

oddly, i find myself soft af for jookyun and idk how to describe it haha (considering that they can often be hard as hellll)

the three of you are also really nonchalant, but this is really in the way that you just feel as if you’ve known eachother for a really long time!

as we know, jookyun were a bit of an enimies to lovers arc (AHA) so with the time that they’ve spent building their bond, it’s strong asf!

i like to think that jooheon and changkyun would really get a ton of artistic inspiration from you for their music. since both of them write and often reflect bc of this, you’re totally their muse! (they’ll write some nasty as hell lyrics thanks to you too LOL)

while our lovely thicc mx boys have unbridled confidence at times, really, they are babie. and they are frickin weak for your pampering.

because of this, the two of them would become flustered as all hell when you do lil things for them!! this could be making them some lunch or just giving them the off compliment that they look a lil extra handsome that day.

your safe place is with them!! ahhh i would also like to add the number of slick ass grabs when you’re in public is a bit off the chain at times ahah

the duality of this r/ship is really something to note LOL when you go out and about when the two of them you certainly get some stares bc they look a lil intimidating at times but when you and your boyfriends cuddle up on the subway you give all passerby's whiplash haahah

Kyun is someone who is insanely romantic. almost to the point that it is cheesy haha he’d treat the both of you to expensive ass dinners, beach vacations and maybe even matching couple’s jewelry like rings or bracelets!

jooheon on the other hand is a little more toned down haha but has another side to him that fkn swells with pride knowing how breathtaking you both are...frankly, his ego skyrockets knowing that he’s got you both for arm candy if this make sense teehee

the three of you call eachother “babe” interchangeably, so it can get a bit confusing when you’re all in the same place and someone says “hey babe?” you need a new nickname ooP

nsfw

hello and here i am to push the sub!changkyun agenda. first and foremost i would like to explain how this man is such a pillow princess with the most lovely bratty edge *sighs* all that kyun wants is for you to fkn use him and do literally whatever the hell you want!! this man daydreams about you riding him right then and there wherever the hell he is.

also, kyun is the king of toys, both using them on you and on himself! need i also say breath play as well in the same giving and receiving form? more than anything he loves it when jooheon wraps his hand around his neck hooooly ahhh he prefers it when you tease his tip with a vibrator until he’s angrily red and begging for you to give him a break just for you to bend down and give a kiss to his pearly head which makes him jolt

jooheon is often more of a soft to hard dom if you ask me and takes care of both you and kyun really well. also... he will manhandle the hell out of you if you feel up for it (cough cough your arm kink for him ) oh shit and his thighs....don't’ even get me started

while the three of you often opt for the hard and fast (even in some more risque places--such as in the recoding studio) there are really some more intimate times that you share too!

on one of changkyun’s vacations, in the middle of the night, when no one was in sight and the hot tub was free for use...it started out as a bit of making out but then turned into something else when you decided to straddle jooheon and he let his hands creep under the straps of your swimsuit...needless to say you were bouncing on both of their dicks while you were warmed by the crackling bubbles

at times, jookyun can get a little needy and impatient without you, so this has lead to a couple situations where you walk in on them letting out their frustrations ;) of course, immediately then they’d love for you to join!

kyun has an oral fixation too, sooo he may or may not love cockwarming with his mouth or sucking your fingers lightly when you go to suck his dick~

♡ junhao ♡

sfw

here me out with this one...but...there’s something really intimate about this relationship?? oh how to put this into words LOL junhao also have an insanely deep bond that really transcends if ya ask me haha

while they both can be really goofy around eachother when comfortable the soulmate vibes are just...immaculate! this is all i can say? all three of you are just so connected in the way that you accept each other for all that you are and just kind of naturally gravitate towards each other even before you really knew that there were romantic feelings involved!

first, i would like to say that out of all the pairings on this list, you three are classy as FUCK. seeing the three of you next to eachother is like seeing literally three models in the flesh. the way that you dress (sometimes even to match a little) is unbelievable bc you all just look so good?

hand holdingggg wherever you go! holding hands across cafe tables, playing with each other’s hands absentmindedly hehe

TRAVEL BUDDIES you would go anywhere with them and take tons of pics!! i mean the prettiest pics

hao shows his love for you in the form of so many things, all of which he makes himself!! you inspire his physical art and drawings which he shares with you and he also loves to take clothes too and personalize them for you!

jun on the other hand would take you to the studioooo and you could watch him danceee oh my gosh he’s literally so breathtaking and he would be dancing just for you with every curve of his body he’s so magical :’) then he’d ask you for feedback and you’d just be speachless...also loves to make you smile!! just being his goofy self he’s the best at it and thinks you’re so cute!

there’s a ton of adoration in this relationship! tons of cute little displays of skinship that might look like a poke in the cheek or the fluffing of their hair ahh

still, i feel like you would have kind of silly little nicknames for them that match their personalities and perhaps...you could have matching phone cases with these nicknames....

in this relationship there’s a ton of quiet moments that are really peaceful and indulgent such as watching sunsets, drinking wine together, just talking about life n stuff like that!

nsfw

hellz yeah we’re in for some more intimate-ass fuckin! but also....😏

this boys are kinky as shit but in like a really classy ass way lolll this is so hard to put into words.

well, i’ll start with junhui catboy agenda so there’s that hehehe he would most def be into pet play: that could be like ears or pretty collars and of course calling you (or him) kitten.

minghao is really versatile and doesn’t really like labels of dom and sub, he just does what he wants and what feels good to him! bc we’re talking about how intimate everything is, the kind of sex that you share with them is often never rushed but really purposeful and even planned sometimes!

i also see there being TONS of sensory items that would come into play with junhao such as flowers, fragrances, aphrodisiacs, all kinds of fabrics for sensory deprovision such as velvet, silk, hemp rope, and so much more!

BOTH OF THEM WOULD SOUND ANGELLIC i see hao as letting out really pretty soft moans that kind of trail on his tongue and jun sort of choking out gasps with a bit of a rasp to them when they cum or they feel turned on

oh god MIRROR SEX that's what i have to say about this

it doesn’t happen often, but sometimes when any one of you would be feeling needy or pent up they can certainly do hard and fast with you between the two of them. especially when this happens, oh my god hao loves it when you moan really breathily into his mouth when you’re pressed against him ooooh shit

and jun loves it when you bite into his shoulder too when he fucks you it just makes him feral

actually, i could really see the three of you recording yourselves, or even taking pictures when you have more intimate moments to look at later, just for your own enjoyment or to get off when you’re without the others

favorite position: hmmm mirror sex with you on top of minghao literally just kissing him and marking his body as jun eats you out until you’re dripping down to minghao’s cock which he jerks off too~

♡ yeonbin ♡

sfw

DON’T TOUCH ME IM SOFT

admittedly i don’t know too much about this pairing but i do know a lil so i wanted to add them!! i also did a lil research hehe

FIRST i would like to say that the three of you would without a doubt have the cutest puppy together, if not one, then two!! they would be little dogs with perfect haircuts and likely have their own instagram account which the three of you would run! they’d be instragram famous of course

LITERALLY EVERY DAY ITS A FIGHT OVER WHOS CUTEST i kid you not this is an ongoing battle you’re all just...so weak for the other ahaha

being in a relationship with them is like being in a relationship with your bestfriends!

dates with the two of them can really range all over the place bc you just like having fun together! movie dates, breakfast dates, ZOO OR AQUARIUM DATES, taking little trips to places you haven’t been before or stay at home dates like having a little indoor picnic!

soobin is really low energy, and would often opt to hang out with you at home or at a cafe while the two of you do your thing together! he lovessss when you bake or cook for him, literally whatever it is he’ll eat it!

his smile is instant serotonin and the reason why you fell in love with him! the two of them together all smiley is your lockscreen!

yeonjunie prefers going out with you clothes shopping and would DEF enable you to dye your hair a color that you’ve always been dying to do! he also loves showing you new music and blushes like heck when you tell him that you like the songs that he picks!

in their own playful ways too, they’d always call you out on your bs LOLL but they just wanna motivate you! they’re your biggest cheerleaders!

Deep down though, both of them are quite cheesy and would love to shower you with alll the stereotypical romance that you can take even if it makes all three of you cringe ahahah

nsfw

NEEEEDY and literally so mf horny on the dl like it’s comical to how soft and shy they can be in real life situations

oh my god this is a godly thought but i see both of them being both switchy as heck but not really bc they like how it feels to be in those different postions but literally....bc no matter what it is they are getting off lolll

i see both of them having sub leanings but can get real bratty if they’re feeling it.

yeonjun does have a dom side to him that just comes with his general confidence that he gets around you! when either of you beg from him he’s ready to let himself loose.

im so sorry but they literally handed pet play to me on a silver platter with cat & dog and there is no going back for me. SO you’re in for puppy, kitty and bunny play (shhhh yeonjun’s got his fox ears too)

WHY AM I THINKING ABOUT HOW ALL OF YOU WOULD LIKE THIGH HIGHS

both of them love being edged to high hell by you...no matter if it hurts...they kinda like it?

at the same time, both of your boyfriends also love giving you all the attention at times too! i’m talking about one of them playing with your breasts while the other trails kisses down your body all the way down to your pussy aching for attention too

FUCK this might be just me but soobin eating you out>>>> a GODLY sight.

i have this other fantasy of yeonjun with either lip piercings or nipple piercings or even a dick piercing someone plz tell me to calm down

oh please...bubble bath with the two of them holy shit baby pink bubbles all around you while you take turns givin’ each other cute kisses ahhhh

one more thing to the pile here would be hella mutual masturbation soo much of it. the three of you get off just simply watching eachother too and dirty talking how much you love the way the others look with hands rubbing themselves away with cute whiny moans~

♡ taekook ♡

sfw

omg! this is my first time remotely talking about bts on my blog hehe this is so exciting!! i don’t really read too much bts ff so this is going off of my own perception!

i just wanna say....there’s so much to unpack here LOL but like many of the soulmates on this list, these boys are ~whipped~ for you and eachother!! its so stinkin’ cute

another thing about these expensive boyfriends is that they loooove to sing for you too! they’d sing you to sleep, when you’re sick, sad, or just had a hard day allllways hehe

the three of you have sickeningly adorable nicknames for eachother, the kind that honestly make heads turn LOL

jk would without a doubt get tattoos with you!! and wine drunk lollll he’s also a huge enabler so if there’s anything that you’re considering buying or doing he’d hype you up so bad you barely have to think twice heheh

kinda like junhao they’d also make amazing travel buddies but less for the aesthetic, but for the luxury. you’d stay at amazing hotels and eat at Michelin star restaurants wearing luxury brands that they bought for you

i feel like this goes without saying, buuuut in this r/ship, its alll about the adoring glances from afar or even just right next to you bc they love you so much!!

i also get a very protective vibe from them as well, you’re very special to them, and they never wanna see you in harms way or disrespected by anyone! this could even look like having their arm around you on the bus or on the small of your back in a crowd

together, they’re the biggest jokesters and flirty as HELL they think that it’s so funny when they flirt out in public AGRESSIVELY just to make you a lil embarrassed hehe

forehead kissessss and kisses on the back of your hand!

nsfw

luxurious in this area tooooo

they would rent out the penthouse or presidential suite to make an evening for you and pull out all the stops: expensive champagne, lingerie selected just for you, a breathtaking view of the city ahhhh

ya all know how much i love my soft and intimateeee body touching and there would be plenty of this! they take their time undressing you and eachother and would plant kisses into the nape of your neck and shoulders as you do so!

i would like to contribute to this conversation sub!jk bc this is something that ahhhhh i really like to think about as well as soft dom tae bcccc why not heheh

these boys are utterly gorgeous under soft lighting and prowling all over your body too tho ahhh

BUT! imagine teasing the hell out of jk, barely letting him feel your mouth besides fleeting kisses while tae drives his hips into you from behindddd

in fact, these boys actually don’t mind a little voyeurism with the wide windows in your suite, opting to leave them open so there's a bit of thrill in the way that they fuck you too~

tae has a bit of...dare i sayyyy a power kink, so when you call him names such as sir, daddy, master etc oh boy

jk himself is bit into sensory dep specifically with blindfolds especially when its your hands travelling all around his body making him shiver.

both of them just looove cuming all over you as well: face, ass, thighs, belly, literally anywhere, they just think that you look amazing like that!

there are a couple times here and there when the three of you also do a bit of cam work together for other people to watch--although it isn’t often, you rake it in when you do so. the three of you are a perfect fantasy!

sex also can happen in odd places with you three too since you can just start feeling it and don’t really care ;) strangest place....hmm i’d say when you joined the mile high club with them~

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

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