#bc I never ever write them soft during the cw

[moonstruckme]

Hiiiii!!!

I was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders with a reader who gets insecure about her dislikes (degrading, bjs, and rough stuff) during sex and feels guilty after sex bc she feels gross.

Thank youuuuu:3 pls ignore if your uncomfy

Hi, thanks for requesting! I feel like this came out a bit awkward but I tried and I hope you like it :)

cw: smut mdni, discussion (but not portrayal) of blowjobs and degradation, shame around sex

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You’re becoming genuinely worried that Remus and Sirius are going to break the bed. 

Both of them are cursing like sailors, Sirius’ voice climbing higher as Remus rocks both him and you with his thrusting. The bed lurches back and forth, your body jiggling with the movement, and James laughs, dipping down to kiss at the spot beneath your ear. 

“Doing alright, angel?” 

You swallow. “Yeah. Bit worried about the bed. You?” 

He picks his head up to give you a smile, seraphim with a flirtatious edge. “Also worried about the bed, but it’ll go out in style. Personally, I’m doing fantastic.”

You return his grin, and James presses his lips to yours. Lingering, mushy kisses that feel like they’re drawing something out of you as he pumps into you slowly. His hand stokes up and down your side the way he knows you like, grounding you while you arch up into him, affection and pleasure melding in your core until your walls are gripping him with something akin to desperation. The feeling grows steadily, James’ voice becoming hoarse as he spews sweet words and encouragements that get swallowed up by your eager mouth until you both break apart into a thousand shining pieces. 

James’ forehead lands on yours, both of you panting softly into the inch of space between you. His large palm continues to soothe over the now sweat-slick skin of your waist. You realize, distantly, that the sound and movement from the other side of the bed has ceased. Sirius and Remus must have finished before you (by some miracle, the bed seems intact), you’re not sure how long ago. It’s not unusual. You always take longer. 

Sweat and cum cool in your crevices, and a familiar remorse takes root somewhere in your chest, spreading towards your gut. You shut your eyes. You want to clean this up like it never happened. 

“Hey sweetheart, how are we feeling?” James reads your change in mood instantly. His question is painfully gentle as he picks his head up, giving you the bit of space he knows you need. 

“Okay,” you say. 

“Want to have a shower?” Sirius leans over to give your knee a squeeze. His tone carries the dulled worry of routine. “Might make you feel better.” 

You nod. Remus helps you up while James peels his condom off, throwing it in the waste bin. You can’t all fit comfortably in the shower, but you squeeze in anyway, your boyfriends terribly kind as you all clean off, checking in with you periodically. Your smile comes a bit easier, the easy affection between you softening your contrition like it always does. They relax as you do. Soon you feel clean and new, all wrapped up in steam and the love you wonder if you’ll ever be good enough to deserve. 

It’s not until after you’ve toweled off and are sitting on the bed in your pajamas, watching Sirius do his skincare routine, that a different kind of guilt begins to eat at you. 

“Sorry I always make this so difficult,” you blurt.

Sirius looks over at you from the bathroom, foaming cleanser half rinsed off his face. Beside him, James pauses with floss held up in front of him. 

“Uh, what’s difficult?” James asks you. 

“Just, everytime we have sex,” you look down at your hands, hearing the soft shuffle of pages as Remus sets down his book beside you, “you guys do so much to accommodate me.” 

“That’s typically how sex works.” Sirius rolls his eyes, tossing you a smile to mitigate it. 

You return his smile wryly. “You know what I mean,” you say softly. 

“No, come on.” Remus scoots closer until his shoulder is touching yours. “What do you mean, love?” 

You shrug, self-conscious. “Like, how you have to take care of me after because I get weird. And during, I never give blowjobs even though you guys have no problem doing anything for me, and you can’t go as rough with me as you like to. I’m sure it’s frustrating.” 

“Not really, no.” Remus says, and you startle at his matter-of-fact tone. “Anything else?” 

You hesitate. “Well, I hear the stuff you and Siri say to each other. You never say any of that to me, and you know I won’t say it to you.” 

“Yes, James doesn’t like degradation either.” Remus leans back against the headboard, looking thoughtful. “Is that all?” 

“I…” You’d been expecting a bigger reaction, not this almost bored response. “I guess that’s all I can think of right now, yeah.” 

“Well, let us know if you think of any more, because all of that’s just preference, dove.” Remus gives you a kind look, almost pitying. “None of it makes you difficult.” 

You sigh, leaning back beside him. Remus’ hand comes up to stroke your hair. “I just mean that I want you all to be able to do whatever you want to,” you say. “I don’t mean to be so…finicky.” 

“You’re not finicky,” Sirius laughs, coming out of the bathroom. He crawls right over you on the bed, stretching out like a cat and laying down with his head on your lap. “Everyone has preferences. It’d only be weird if you didn’t.” 

“But what about your preferences?” You’re nearly bickering now, frustrated with them for intentionally missing your point. 

“Have you ever thought about the idea that maybe we don’t all like it rough all of the time?” He raises an eyebrow up at you, teasing. James finishes in the bathroom and comes to lean against the doorway, watching the three of you. “If I wanted my hair pulled every time, gorgeous, I don’t think I’d have any hair left.” 

His joking coaxes a smile from you, but it’s tinged with bemusement. Really, you hadn’t thought about it that way. You’d just assumed that anytime they have sex with you, it’s a small sacrifice on their part. They drew the short stick that day. Like he can read your thoughts, Sirius grins. 

“Anyway, know what I like most?” 

“What?” 

“You’re going to hate it,” he warns. 

You almost want to laugh, but you narrow your stare on him. “Go on.” 

“Knowing that we’re making you feel good.” 

A derisive snort leaves you before he’s even finished the sentence. You roll your eyes. “You’re right, that’s awful.” 

“It’s the truth, though.” James holds his hand up beside him. “Scout’s honor.” 

“Were you ever in boy scouts?” Remus asks quietly, almost to himself. Sirius shakes his head in your lap, but shrugs like that’s not really relevant. 

“Honestly, sweetheart, you make it sound like being with you is some kind of chore,” James says, ignoring them both. “Do you think you’re the only one who can say if you don’t like something?” You blink in surprise, but he goes on. “If we weren’t having a good time, we would tell you. Promise.” 

“Scout’s honor,” Remus mimics from beside you. “You’re not the only one who likes to be treated gently, dove. The rest of us might go back-and-forth sometimes, but we all have things we don’t like, alright? It’s no burden to do what’s going to be nice for you, and like Sirius said, making it nice for you is part of the fun.” 

“A big part,” Sirius agrees. 

“Okay,” you say, softening a bit. “Okay, but what about after? None of the rest of you need to be coddled.” 

“How do you figure?” James asks interestedly. “Sirius is the biggest pillow princess I ever saw. He needs to be carried out of bed after, or have you never noticed?” 

“Oi, you try being thrown around like you two do to me and see how you feel after!” Sirius glowers. “Dollface, you get it, right?” 

You laugh, because you don’t, that’s the point, but Remus speaks again before you can tell him so. “Sweetheart, we all have our things we need afterward. And yeah, I think we all hope that someday you don’t feel so bad about yourself right after, but we’re happy to take care of you anyway.” 

You scrutinize him, looking for a lie in his placid features. “Really? You don’t mind?” 

“Yeah, really, idiot.” Sirius pinches meanly at your stomach. “You’re our baby, of course we don’t mind. Stop asking silly questions.” 

“Let her ask what she wants, twat,” James says, starting towards the bed, and Remus gives Sirius’ thigh a reprimanding flick with his middle finger. It doesn’t look very hard, but Sirius squawks in protest and glares at him anyway. “Nobody minds taking care of you, angel,” James goes on, scooching into bed beside you. “That’s what we do, right? You’ve never complained about taking care of us.” 

“I guess,” you give in, laying your head on his shoulder. 

James rests his cheek atop your hair in return. You can feel the movement of his jaw as he speaks. “We’re all allowed to like what we like,” he vows, then lowers his voice conspiratorily. “But you and I are on the right side of things, sweetheart. The things those two say to each other are depraved.”

[luniarix]

*⁀➷ 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜

sypnosis: basically in which toji and you are having sex for the first time after a 3 year long distance relationship <3

NOTE: WHY DID I TAKE HALF A YEAR TO FINISH THIS BRU. feeling like cory rn LMAAOOO— no but frfr school has been in the way and some personal problems have made it hard to write but im getting back on track i promise. i tried to make this longer than i originally wanted! more fics are otw i defff have plenty of ideas while i've been gone.

CW: fem!reader, virgin!reader, chubby reader!!, possessive!toji, domestic!toji, shy!y/n, whipped!toji, whipped!reader, age gap, established relationship, mentions of sexting, dry humping, unprotected!sex(wrap it before u tap it), mating press, marking, scratching, slight hair pulling, dirty talk, handjob if u squint, fingering, cunnilingus, after care, toji bein an absolute sweetheart cause i’m a sucker for affection, vv domestic moments bc im a romantic at heart, pet names such as; baby, sweetheart, mama(s), etc

majority of people say that long distance relationships were bound to fall apart one day.

not yours and toji’s tho!! of course not, even with all the stigma surrounding online relationships and with the added on fact that it’s “taboo” for toji to be years older than you, didn’t mean you two wouldn’t work out. duhh, you guys are safe from all that.

and so here you were, sat nervously on his couch in his house waiting for him to finish coming back from the convenience store. you guys had decided on your first ever actual date to be a more domestic one— so a movie night with snacks was the go to move. the click of the front door opening has you springing up and walking over to toji who has multiple bags with all kinds of treats.

“give me some. let me help you, kay?”

you mutter, taking a few bags from him before he could protest and setting them down onto the kitchen table. you go into the cabinets to pull out a few big bowls, and start pouring the food into them. all while you were doing this, toji unexpectedly comes up behind you and wraps his strong arms around your waist.

“have i told you how pretty you look baby?”

he presses a few kisses to your neck as he rubs circles on your soft hips, and you turn away from him to hide the way you’re becoming flustered.

“you’ve only been saying it since you’ve picked me up at the airport.”

toji spins you around to face him, and you begin biting your lip at the way he’s eyeing you down. good lord he was so sexy. but looking at him for too long would put you into cardiac arrest with how his green eyes pierced through your own. damn, since when did it get so hot in here?

“i’ll keep on saying it sweetheart, cause i like the way you squirm underneath my gaze.”

you swallow and give a shy giggle in return. you were so glad that toji was your first ever real long term relationship, because him being your first everything? the idea always had you squealing like a middle school girl. but your train of thought had dissipated when toji begun to gently squeeze your ass.

“toji… i- i needa set the bowls down onto the living room table.”

oh wow, now you’re stuttering? you felt a bit embarrassed considering how assertive you were between your texts and calls. yet here you were, getting shy at every gesture he made. obviously during your relationship you two had always been lovey dovey, but you never actually believed that toji himself was clingy. you aren’t complaining tho!! you adored that he was like this with you.

“that can wait, just let me kiss for a bit.”

and who were you to say no to his request? with the way he was holding onto your waist as he pulled you into a sweet kiss was when you knew this was worth waiting for. the soft sounds of your lips parting and connecting once more had your head spinning— your knees becoming weaker from every caress he gave.

“you taste so good mama.”

the signature nickname he gave you since the start of your relationship slips out, and you moan in satisfaction. you grip onto his black wife beater shirt, then smooth your hands up to grab onto his shoulders, jabbing your nails into his skin from how jittery you were getting. he softly bit your bottom lip, and that made you part your lips enough for him to slip his tongue in.

your vision grows hazy and your eyes close shut before pulling away in a gasping manner. toji gazes at you in desire as you begin to act like that didn’t phase you— when in fact you were trying your best not to start jumping around and doing jumping jacks. good god, you really did win the lottery with him. you push your hair back from your face and grab the bowls before walking right past him and setting them down on the living room table.

toji follows right behind you, pulling you back into him as he sits down on the couch. you squeal as you fall right into his lap, chest right against his. you flutter your lashes at him as he licks his lips and leisurely glides his hand down from your neck all the way down to your ass once again. it made your body twitch in delight, and you grind against his crotch in response to his tease.

“oh? ‘you finally gonna stop bein’ shy with me mama?”

toji rubs his hand up towards your waist and pinches your hip dip. you have your own hands massaging his shoulders as you begin to mutter in embarrassment,

“you keep trying to provoke me, asshole.”

toji gives you a sly grin before you impulsively decide to pull him in by the straps of his wife beater shirt, kissing him once again. you gasp desperately and he soon had his tongue dancing with yours. you nibble on his bottom lip and pull back just a little to tease him, which has his eyes widening in shock. your confidence boosts at that reaction and you begin to go down to his jaw, peppering soft kisses towards his neck and that’s when you begin to suck.

you give wet kisses to his adams apple and switch from sucking on his skin to kissing over the markings that began to fold. you do the same all over his neck and you then trail down to his collar bones. you moan in surprise when you could start to feel toji’s boner pressing against you through his sweats. wearing biker shorts wasn’t helping either because you could clearly feel the imprint.

you whine and grind against him, trying to create more friction as your arousal begins to stain your panties and possibly through your shorts. toji groans and grips onto your hips, both of you moving in a messy rhythm. your thighs began to tremble as your clit became more and more sensitive with each reaching second. soon enough you’d orgasm, all while being clothed.

this idea makes toji stop grinding against you, gripping onto your hips to stop you. you’re dazed out expression contorts into a frustrated one as you pout. why wasn’t he letting you orgasm? you knew toji was the type of man to put your pleasure over his own and yet he was stopping you from reaching your high.

toji only chuckles and brushes a thumb over your soft lips, nudging his finger in a bit to coat a bit of saliva on it. meanwhile, he’s rubbing your hips and thighs.

“i know you’re frustrated baby, but it’s our first time together, and you deserve to orgasm in a much better way than just dry humping.”

your lashes flutter against your skin as you melt against his touch. gosh, he was always thinking about you first and you loved it so much. you were so entranced that you could only nod in response, a dreamy expression on your face. after all, this was the first out of many that you guys could get intimate with each other face to face. toji smiles lazily, admiring how beautiful his baby looked. he’s then quick to take off your shirt and helps you slip off your shorts, only leaving you in your undergarments.

he squeezes at your pudge, loving how soft you were— grinning at how you twitched and tried to hold in your giggles. he loved every part of your body, and he was going to make sure to cherish all of you. you deserved to be loved right. toji leans forward to rest his head against your tits, reaching his hands behind your back to smoothly unhook your bra. you gasp in surprise as the straps begin to slip off your shoulders.

he pulls back to have your bra fall off, pretty tits now being exposed to him. toji sucks in a sharp breath as he internally groans at how big your tits were, bringing his hands up to cup them. you softly moan and your already perked nipples hardened even more. he fans his breath against one, and gently pulls on the other. your soft sighs is what brings him to hurriedly put his lips around your nipple, licking and kissing the bud.

you sharply inhale and squeeze his shoulders. you felt like a mess, because you couldn’t think straight and the only thing your mind could focus on was the way toji’s boner was right against you and neither of you were fully naked yet. you just wanted him to fuck you so good— to make up for all the years you two missed out on each other’s bodies.

toji kisses the nipple he was teasing his fingers with, and then begins to suck on it as he then swirls his tongue around your areola. you bite your lip and shutter in satisfaction, as you feel him begin to toy with your other nipple. toji makes sure to leave marks all over your chest before actually gently laying you on the couch, and taking his own shirt off. you’ve seen it all the time through pictures and videos when he would be sending you gym videos, or when you would facetime when he would be at the gym or when it was late at night, but it still came as a surprise to you on how well sculpted he was.

“ya like what ya see baby?”

he’s grinning at you, and you realize that you’ve been staring at him for too long. you roll your eyes and smile back at him. there wasn’t any point in denying at how in awe you were with how sexy your man was.

“i do. you look so handsome.”

toji’s eyes become hooded, pools of emerald green darkening at your compliment. he licks his lips before pulling at your panties, ripping them in the process of quickly having them be thrown somewhere on the floor. wow, he must’ve really liked that comment.

you prop your elbows up against the couch and watch with wide-blown eyes as he pulls down his sweats and boxers, also discarding the clothing somewhere on the floor. his cock was— big and oh so girthy. you were definitely turning into puddy by the next morning.

you gasp when he pushes your legs apart and he’s sloppily pumping himself as his gaze latches onto yours, and blood rushes to your face from how self-aware you were. he was jacking himself off to you right in front of you. and dirty enough, you liked it. you liked having him look so desperate right above you, as he gets himself prepared to fuck you.

god, was that whole length seriously going to go inside you? toji would always speak about how big he was in a cocky tone and when you saw it on camera for the first time, you knew not to doubt him. but seeing it in actuality made it sink in on just how big he really was.

your breaths get heavier the more his pre dripped onto your lower abdomen, and as he was beginning to groan more. you were quick to put a hand around the top of his length, teasing his tip. toji’s body jolts for a second before he’s quick to relax once again and his pace becomes faster.

you draw circles around his tip, making sure to gently squeeze him every few seconds. you could tell how bad toji wanted to cum with the way he started to buck his hips and the lewd squelching noises got sloppier.

“fuck, i can’t take this any longer.”

toji abruptly pulls away from you, backing up to then grab your thigh and slide his hands up to your knees, lifting your legs off the couch to have you be folded against him, legs now hooked over his shoulders. your eyes widen when his nose is pressing against your pubic area, and he’s looking up at you with devilish eyes.

“been waiting to do this for a while..”

he murmurs, licking his lips feverishly. he’s quick to press his mouth right against your cunt, giving leisure licks to your clit. you cry out in surprise, thighs quickly beginning to tremble. you try to silence your moans by biting your lip and having a hand cover your mouth. but toji looks up at you and furrows his brows.

he pulls you closer and pushes your hips upward, your ass slightly lifting off the couch cushion as he gropes your asscheeks. he’s eating you faster, tongue swirling against your clit and then feverishly leaving sloppy kisses— and repeat. your eyes roll back as your body jolts in utter pleasure.

you try to push his head back from how flustered you were— but instead, your fingers tangle themselves into his hair as you pull on it, tears prickling at the brims of your eyelids. you mewl pathetically, trying to move your hips in a rhythmic pace against his tongue. you could feel the knot in your stomach beginning to form.

“oh god! toji! m’gonna— gonna cum!”

you shriek, thighs closing around his head as your body shakes in such a way that has toji holding onto your hips to steady you a bit. you try to hide your moans with your hands again but he’s quick to grab your wrist with his free hand and pin it down to the bed.

when he feels like you’re wet enough, he slowly inserts one thick finger into your twitching hole. your pupils dilate and your mouth turns into an “o” as you desperately gasp for air. his relentless pace becomes too much to bare when he’s inserting another finger, and you squeal with pleasure. your own fingers couldn’t compare to how good his own were stretching you, working you to a release.

his mouth goes back down again, gently sucking on your clit, as his fingers roughly fucked you. your eyes are practically crossing and toji could almost see stars swirling in your pupils as you succumbed to the immense feeling that was beginning to build up. you were whispering his name, chanting it over and over again like a prayer and it made him want to reach down to his cock and pump himself to your moans.

“oh! oh, tojiii! please! please let me—”

a sly grin forms on his swollen lips, and he curls his fingers at that spot that has you almost screaming, back arching off the couch as you grip onto his hair for dear life, pulling on it as your body quivers in delight. he was so good at this you feared that you’d end up closing your thighs around his head without thinking and suffocate him on accident.

and when he gently takes your clit in between his lips and sucks all while hitting that sweet spot inside, you come undone. toji could barely hear the "m'cumming!" you squealed out before you're creaming against his face, juices flowing down to his chin as he laps up your overstimulated cunt, moaning in satisfaction at how addicting your taste was.

"god you taste so fuckin' good, sweetheart."

you whine in response, hardly registering what he said over the loud drumming of your heartbeat, a dazed expression painting your face which made toji chuckle. but he didn't want you to get tired just yet. and so, he's quick to swipe his tongue over his lips, fingers taking the dripping cum on his chin into his mouth all while looking directly into your eyes. he's then towering over you once more, green eyes shining once more through the illuminated moonlight peaking through the curtains of his home, streaks of dark raven hair being outlined by said light.

"I love you, to'."

the words slip out so easily, so naturally, that it almost surprised you. but it didn't, not as much as the faint sharp inhale you heard from the man above you. it wasn't that you guys hadn't really used the words between you two, but more so it felt more real, more raw, now that you could actually say it to each other face to face. not that it hadn't already meant a lot during the time that you were long-distance but cmon, who couldn't say that this was so much better?

he lines himself up against your folds, bending down to kiss you on the lips. he didn't say anything. but he didn't need to, not with the way he brought his free hand up to intertwine with yours, giving an affectionate squeeze. and certainly not with the way he had begun peppering kisses all over your face, from your forehead down to your chin. rather than saying it back, he's showing you. showing you that this? this was going to be you two from now on.

"you ready, baby?"

after seeing his dick for the first time? since forever.

but you only smile against his lips, nodding in response. he nuzzles your noses together, tip slowly pushing into you. you moan, back slightly arching off the couch once again. toji then gently puts your legs over his shoulders anew as he finally wedges the tip inside, stopping every now and then so you can begin to stretch out and accommodate his girth and length without much struggle.

"oh fuck, you're so fuckin' tight."

toji moans as he bucks against you slightly, pushing another inch further in. you throw your head back against the soft cushions behind your head and gasp. he was so big, you already felt so full. he inches in slowly, and you could feel yourself loosening up more and more. your thighs are visibly trembling, and you could feel every trace of his vein that trails down his entire length. at one point, you felt like you could feel him in your stomach. toji finally goes in to the hilt, and your mind went blank.

it felt like forever for him to fully stuff himself into your pussy but when he had, you could feel his tip kiss your cervix and your body was tingling all over, tears forming at the brims of your eyelids as a reaction of pleasure. your bodies were finally connected and you were thrilled, so much so that you began squeezing around him—tighter.

"shit baby, you're sucking me in."

toji whispers huskily, thick black bangs of hair stuck onto his forehead from sweat as his beefy arms are caging your head. you moan in response, wrapping your arms around his neck and fingernails pressing on his back, scratching him. he grunts, lifting up to position himself to squat on top of you. oh my god, toji had put you in mating press.

his hips move back and slam back into you and you force down a scream when you feel him go so deep. your tits circle as you shake in desperation, and your cunt spasms at the feeling of the way his cock twitches. toji laughs, voice so deep and raspy that it made you wetter than you already were. he was amused at your reaction.

but you were getting impatient. finally getting used to his size meant that he didn’t have to hold back, and you didn’t want him to. you wanted him to have you not feeling your legs by tomorrow morning, and screaming until the entire neighborhood knew his name.

“please to’… want you to fuck me hard.”

being so close to him meant that you could not only see his reactions, but feel them too. so when he shudders from your words, it has you whining. his hips slowly begin to move, and your hands squeeze his shoulders in utter delight as you repeatedly gasp with each soft thrust.

and when he grabs your disheveled hair to tilt your head back, aligns his lip right against your ear? it has you quivering around his cock as he whispers to you,

"y’want me to fuck ya until you’re cumming all over my cock hm? want me to fuck ya ‘till you’re seeing nothin but stars?”

your toes curl as you tighten around him, the delicious feeling has him sighing in ecstasy. you then nod frantically, raking your nails against his biceps. you couldn’t even give him any other response besides a pitiful whimper. toji chuckles darkly, before fixing his positioning on top of you.

he pulls out just enough so only the tip and an inch or so are wedged in, and then snaps his hips back into you with full force as you jolt while screaming out his name. and then he starts fucking into you, almost at a feral pace. you grip onto his shoulders like your life depended on it, jaw slacked and the most erotic moans spewing out of your glossed lips.

“oh- oh my god! toji! please! ffucckk!”

you never knew you could moan so loudly, and god was it embarrassing. not in the shameful way, but more so… the fact that you couldn’t ever imagine yourself moaning like this until toji made it possible. your thought process is shortly cut off when toji begins to groan— and, was that a whine that you just heard?

you feel his hand trail down to your twitching clit, and your lips form an “o” shape as he begins to ever so softly pinch it. you wail as you frantically claw at his back, bright red scratch marks appearing that were sure to last for a while. toji grunts, he wouldn’t admit it just yet but the pain from your nails mixed with the sheer pleasure your pussy was bringing him was making his balls swell much faster than he expected.

and the way your tight gummy walls were sucking his fat cock in— it was like you were begging to be filled up with his thick cum. but maybe that was just him speaking for himself. the idea of cumming in you was enticing; one that consumes his sexual desires. but not just yet. toji looks down to see a white ring begin to form at the base of his dick, and he licks his lips as he glances back up at you.

you looked so pretty, fucked out on his cock like this. your tits were jiggling in rhythm with his animalistic thrusts, and your nipples were rubbing against his chest. and he was even more enamored with the sound his balls slapping against your ass were making. fuck, he was bound to cum soon. but you looked like you were on the brink of shattering more so than he was.

that specific feeling of your stomach clenching and your body tensing up has you knowing that you were going to reach your release any minute. and so when toji begins to messily rub his fingers against your clit to overstimulate you all while he’s rutting into you with one goal in mind— you break.

your thighs are quaking against his body, as your cunt gushes out milky white cum, coating toji’s cock and his inner thighs. you whine when toji pulls out and releases on your stomach and tits, feeling empty without him inside anymore. with your eyes rolled back, lights swirling behind your eyelids as you were trying to form coherent thoughts, with you trying to control your ragged breathing; you almost didn’t register toji’s “you okay mamas?”.

you look at him through half-lidded eyes, and exhale out a velvet “mhm”, a lazy smile spreading across your lips to reassure him even more. he laughs softly and then slowly pulls back from you to have your legs lay on his sides, as he begins to slowly and gently massage from your thighs down to your ankles. you moan with relief as you hadn’t even taken notice to the slight pain within some parts of your legs that toji was rubbing on.

“you did so well baby.”

he mumbles, bringing one leg up to kiss from your calf to your ankle, then the other. you practically melt from his touches— he was so good at making you feel loved in all kinds of ways and it made you go crazy.

“thank you for this amazing first time experience, to’.”

you reach for his free hand, pulling him down so you can give him sweet kisses on his lips and cheeks. he kisses you back, squeezing your hand affectionately. you both pull away and you slowly sit up, leaning against him for support.

“only the best for you, sweetheart. i’ll be right back with a wash cloth for ya, ‘kay?”

you nod and watch as he gets up and goes back into the bathroom across the room to get a wash cloth, and he comes back in a few seconds. you sigh at the feeling of the warmth of the water on the cloth, and toji cleans the sticky mess he left before going down to in between your thighs to clean, then the couch. he jogs back into the bathroom to leave the cloth and wash his hands, and maybe his dick, and comes back to you once more.

he sits next to you and brings an arm around you, rubbing your shoulder with his hand. he then tosses a blanket that was laying on the side over you two— and you realized how bad you’ve always wanted this. gosh, you couldn’t wait for more moments like this.

and then you look in front of you, and you remember what you two were actually meant to be doing.

“baby, what about the movie we were supposed to be watching?”

toji’s eyes widen, almost like that never crossed his mind, and you can’t help but giggle at how fast he grabs the remote to put on Netflix and swipe through movies you two could watch.

“we still can mama, jus’ don’t fall asleep on me.”

“you’ve already tired me out, so no promises.”

you grin at the way he playfully rolls his eyes and gives you a cheeky laugh. so when he pulls you in to peck your forehead, and for just the sake of being closer?

you know that this is where you were meant to be.

P.S: wow!! this was so much fun from start to finish. writers block is a real pain in the ass but more is to come, at a less-half year disappearance-rate LMAO. def going to write more abt this trope, i loved it sm.

feel free to leave ideas in my inbox or a comment ♡ if i made any grammar mistakes that i missed, lmk！and thank u so much for reading (●´ω｀●)

[prettyboykatsuki]

are you awake yet

is it time to talk about boot humping bakugo

safe with you | k. bakugou

✮ cw ; afab + gn!reader, boot-humping but loving akjdkjd, mutual masturbation, facials, the title sir, sub!reader, soft dom!bkg , praise and adoration bc its bkg <3 18+

✮ wc ; 1.5k (??)

✮ a/n ; i am awake sorry this came at 3am though ajhjdjk. also they have a very established switch for switch dynamic. writing my yearly dom bkg content lmao

also this is not the most original concept but its my iteration so i hope thats alright

It's not even that he's being particularly demeaning to you. You'd have to initiate it, because Bakugou always has been a simple person during sex. He's always busy but he's home today after early dismissal. Has on those thick, black boots with hefty rugged soles.

He's cleaned them off after coming from his job. So clean the light of your living room is bouncing off the bronzey metal.

And you're sitting on the floor of your living room. You come crawling towards him mostly to rest your head on his lap or just give him a nudge. You notice he looks good. He always does. Has the most handsome face even when it's twisted into a scowl - at home it's relaxed. The soft curve of his jaw, the pull of his lips - all flat nose bridge and pretty, straight lashes.

Clean, shiny boots. His costume is still on. Mask is pulled up and pushing his hair back. He hasn't even taken off his gloves today, not yet. His arms are muscular stretched over his head in exhaustion. enough to see his midriff coming through. Wispy blonde hairs in a trail above the low hand of his pants.

You rest your chin on his knee and he looks at you fondly. Lovingly. even though he usually looks so mean there's a warm, watery look to his eyes as he reaches his hands out towards you. He rubs your cheek with his gloves on. Pets your head so tenderly it makes you feel like you'll melt into the floor.

"Hey," He hums, a small smile on his lips. so full of mirth you can't breathe "Miss me so much?"

"Stupid question."

"I'm rubbin' off on you more and more everyday," He says. You laugh because it's true.

"You look really good right now," You offer bluntly. His face splits into a grin. A smirk, really - the kind where it barely flashes his teeth. In another life he has canines, fangs sharp enough to rip through you.

"That right?"

This part of him, so riddled with confidence, always makes your stomach feel like it's burning. So often Bakugou is rational and relative. A little irritable, a little ridiculous. It's been a long road, and he's finally at that place where the confidence is well-earned. No longer misshapen inferiority tacked together with anger.

But real, unshakeable confidence. He believes you when you tell him that he looks good. He gets a little cocky about it, and it only ever makes him sexier. Only he could ever pull it off. A wave of desire washes over you, a heat. You nod absently, and it's like something switches in him. A tenderness that's sharpened with love, with want.

"You wanna do something about it?" He gathers, maybe from the look in your eyes. You nod and he smiles again, a little fiercer this time around.

"And what's that? Gotta tell me or i won't know for shit."

"On your boots. Wanna—"

"Wanna hump my fucking boots?" And he laughs, breathless, a tent pitching that you can see from where you sit "Really?"

"Uh-huh. Can I?"

"I'd never say no to you, sweetheart." he says, clicking his teeth like it's the most obvious thing in the world "Go ahead. Do it like you fucking mean it."

"Yes, Sir."

A switch flips off in him. You can see it on his face, the realization washing over him. He laughs a little to himself. So it's like that, written all over his face. You rest yourself on his leg, a feeling welling up inside of you that you can't describe.

You scoot a little. Line yourself up along the edge of his boot, your clit touching the roundest part. You're glad you're wearing shorts, even though you're so certain that they're going to be soaked through because the direct contact might too much. You're worked up and wet and aching.

Bakugou is gentle. He's kind, a sort of pride rolling off him in waves as he guides your head to his leg. You press your cheek against his thigh.

"Want somethin' to watch, baby?"

"Yes. Please." You answer back. Small and simple. He laughs a little but abides your request. You watch carefully with your head tilted, as he pulls his cock out from his pants.

Half-hard, thicker than it's long with the tip and aching red that leaves heat crawling up your neck. He reaches forward to you, cupping his palm and giving you a tilted smile. The removal of his gloves is so painfully deliberate. Calloused hands, but beautifully thick fingers. You spit in his palm obediently, staring as it drips down his shaft. He goes slow, palms fisted around the base of his cock as he strokes it.

"Go on," He encourages, tender but teasing "Make yourself feel good."

So you do. It takes a little effort to work up to the right rhythm. You have to hold onto his leg - feel the hardness of as you anchor yourself up enough to roll your hips. It doesn't feel good until it does. Until there's enough pressure on you that you moan out. Your eyes are fluttery as you stare Bakugou.

And he's watching you so intently, fixed on the sight of you underneath him. There's something that always borders on obsessive when you get like this. Makes his chest swell up with pride that you want this, want him enough to hump against the steel toes of his work boots. You look damn good doing it, eyes hazy and shorts slowly riding up - curve of your ass and the bend of your knee making it hard for him to breathe.

The room is so thick with lust you can taste it in the back of your mouth. Bakugou strokes his cock, melting into the couch - head thrown back but always looking at you. He reaches a free hand out to touch you, using his thumb to wipe drool from the corner of your lips.

"So damn messy," He say, tucking his thumb into your mouth "You're gonna ruin my work pants, baby."

"Sorry." You hum. He chuckles.

"Making a mess of my boots too, probably." He hums, low as you suck his thumb "Gonna 'em all shiny, huh?"

A whine escapes your throat, a garbled and desperate sound as something gets all knotted up inside of you. The descent is slow and impatient. Makes your breath hitch hard with such utter need. You can feel it, how good you're feeling. How wet your getting, how even through the material there's more of a slip than it would be. And every time you open your eyes up - Bakugou is staring at you.

Peering at your needy expression with red eyes, thumb over slit and shivering from his sensitivity. It's the sight of you that he's using to get off. He's excited watching you be desperate, watching your expression change into one of utter devastation.

You're his favorite, messy angel. The sweetest thing in the whole world when you're like this. It makes Bakugou want to take care of you. Guide you gently, patiently towards the edge. Pushes all of his pride down and replaces it with devotion hard enough to swallow you - to make the glassy look in your eyes feel so fucking earned.

He does earn it. Earns his titles, always. Like Sir is just as important as Mr. Dynamight. Always earns that sweet fucking face you make when he fucks you into a stupid mess. You're beautiful like that, really. Beautiful when you're ruined, when you give him the wheel to take you where you need to go.

He softens his voice for you, just enough timbre to make your insides hot and sticky. "You wanna cum, don't you? Wanna cum humping my fucking boot."

"Yes, Sir."

"So well-mannered when you want something." He praises, though it sounds a little mean "Look at you. Didn't even get to take my work clothes off."

You want to say sorry. You're too close to think of the fact he's teasing you and that part of you makes him wrought with affection.

You feel hot as you whimper.

"C-can I cum, Sir? P-please, oh, pleaseplease."

"Close your eyes, sweetheart." He says, a tremor in his voice "Let's cum together."

You close your eyes and listen well as you let yourself go. It takes you a minute to get there, but the minute you pulse the first time - you feel something hot spill out against your cheek. You think it gets on your clothes too but you can't really tell. You're too busy cumming with him, all of you unravelling as you pulse and thrash and hold on so tight to Bakugou like your life depends on it.

You cum hard - eyes still closed. You hear Bakugou mumble something above you as you catch your breath. Some plastic crinkling and the feeling of something wet wiping off your cheeks. You wait until he's done to peel your eyes back open.

"Still with me? Feeling okay?" He checks in. You yawn but don't move.

"Yeah. Wanna say here for a bit though."

He laughs, petting your head.

"You look real comfortable."

You laugh with him.

"I am. I kinda see why you do this so much."

A flush spread on his face.

"Shut up."

[rodolfoparras]

Captain’s boy

Price doesn’t play favorites at least that’s what he says. However there’s no denying he’s got a soft spot for you and everyone knows it.

You are after all Captain’s boy.

18+ | MINORS DNI

Pairing: John Price x Trans Male Reader

Stand alone/ part of a series

Cw; oral sex, clothed oral sex, reference to afab anatomy (clit is referred to as clit and not dick/cock), words cock and dick are used for reader’s genitalia though ( instead of words like cunt etc) alluded exhibitionism, possessiveness, Dom!Price, Sub!Reader, power dynamics, (light) verbal degradation, praise, no after care, plot what plot/ porn with plot

The usual disclaimer: English isn’t my first language so excuse any grammatically incorrect sentences, spelling mistakes, ooc, plot holes… heads up for long sentences as well, who needs proper structure anyway.

A/n: I’m forcing myself to post my drafts since ideas keep piling up. Also pls read the tags bc reading it without doing so might be confusing . This could be better but hey at least it’s something. I hope you enjoy!

Being captain of a squad entails a whole lot of things; one of the most important being that one couldn’t afford to play favorites. It’s bound to end badly. Matter of fact it might very well result in death. That’s why when Price became captain of the 141 he vowed to himself he wouldn’t play favorites.

Sure he might’ve taken Gaz under his wing but if the man were to mess up on a mission he’d be sent out on practice drills in the pouring rain if the Captain deamed it to be fit. And sure he might’ve known Ghost the longest out of all the guys in 141 but that didn’t mean he was any more lenient on him because of that. And despite Soap’s talent to worm his way into the toughest of hearts, Price ensured he’d never reach his soft spot.

But somehow you seem to be the exception. And everyone knows it. Their suspicions were first confirmed when you’d messed up during a mission. Everyone especially Gaz had expected you to be assigned to run laps for days on end but was surprised to see the captain putting a comforting hand on your shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

That’s also the very first time you’d earn your title as Captain’s boy.

The second person to notice the captain’s lenience towards a certain soldier was Ghost.

You all had just come back from a successful mission and despite the promise of celebration, there was still the ever daunting task of writing a report for it but no one seemed willing to do it.

Everyone had been tasked with writing it, except for the captain of course. Ghost had tried to talk his way out of it but had quickly been shut down by the older man. What he didn’t know was that you had been exempt from writing it. Even with the mask on his face, there was no hiding the sheer amazement he felt as he watched you stroll out the room with the captain himself.

“Captain’s boy huh?” He whispered under his breath as he clicked his pen.

Soap had been the last man to find out about it.

He had heard whispers about it from the previous men but had only chosen to believe it once he had seen it for himself.

You all had been tasked with training new recruits. Everyone had gotten their own little station and Soap had been assigned to the shooting rage. It was fun at first: watching the new guys trying not to shoot their heads off but at some point he got bored of watching over them. So naturally he had wandered over to your station. It didn’t take long before he heard the captain’s voice sounding over your hushed conversation.

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?”Price asked with his arms folded across his chest.

“Not at all” Soap said and flashed him a big grin as he turned on his heel only to be met with a glare from the older man. “Back to your post then Mactavish”

Soap had expected you to face the same treatment.

But as he scurried away and threw a second glance over his shoulder, he came to see the sternness on his captain’s face replaced with something much softer.

He had the mind to applaud you right there and then but had settled for chuckling in disbelief as the words “captain’s boy” left his lips.

Price and you chose to ignore the rumors since at the end of the day rumors were just rumors and no one seemed to mind that the captain seemed to favor a certain soldier.

However they’ll never know just how right they are about the captain and his boy.

You’re laying with your chest flush against the floor, ass up in the air and with a soldier’s body pressed against your own.

It would be rather inappropriate to be in such an intimate position with a soldier but this wasn’t just any other soldier. This was your captain and on many occasions have you found yourself in similar positions.

Your captain who you were supposed to be sparring with had quickly gotten bored and his hands had started to wander on their own.

You didn’t mind the change of plans, however you did mind the fact that his hands seemed to aimlessly wander your body, leaving you worked up and without nothing.

Just as you’re about to complain, finally fed up with the teasing he’d put you through, he roughly pulls down the fabric of your pants, exposing your underwear.

The cool air raises goose bumps all across your skin. But the sensation is quickly replaced with the heat from his palms as they find their way to your naked thighs, trialing up to the sides to finally end their journey at your hips.

You're waiting expectantly for Price to pull down your underwear, bucking your hips up to him every time he slips a finger under the waistband. But every time you think he’s about to pull them down, he allows the boxers to snap back in place and returns to his original spot on your hips, thumb mindlessly tracing circles on the skin.

“Ple-please” you pant, once again bucking your hips at him. However, Price chooses to ignore your plea. Instead he leans down, bodies now pressed flush against each other as he whispers into your ear “What? You want me to take these off for you?” faux sympathy dripping from every word he speaks as his fingers once again pull at the waistband of your underwear only to let it snap back in place again.

“Yes- yes, sir, please”

“Oh no my boy, we have to have some decency ” Price says, tone now akin to the one he uses for recruits when reprideming them but with something darker wrapped around the vowels.

You huff at his words, and feel his hot breath wash over your skin as he chuckles at your whining.

“What? Don’t tell me you want everyone to see you with your cock out. Is that what you want?” You squeeze your thighs, whimpers slipping past your lips as you think of what it would be like for someone to see you like this.

You feel his hands leave the waistband of your underwear to instead run down the side of your thighs.

“Want them to see how you get when you’re with me? “

It doesn’t take long for you to feel his body sliding further down your back, nose nuzzling along the length of your spine and words disappearing into the fabric of your shirts as he says his next words “Want them to see how hard you get for me?”

Price’s journey ends at your lower back where he presses a kiss on it as his hands go to cup your ass cheeks. From where he rests his head, you feel his hot breath hitting your skin and the wisps of beard hair prickling against your ass cheek and a whimper escapes your lips as you buck your hips up to him “Please, please, sir”

Price ignores your pleas as he continues to tease

“Want them to see just how wet you can get for me hm? “ he says as he harshly kneads the flesh in his hands “Answer me”

“Yes- yes sir. I want it please!” You cry out, hips subconsciously grinding in the air; desperate to be given some sort of relief.

“Oh, what am I going to do with you my boy?” he says with a dark chuckle “I know it’s a shame to keep you all to myself but what can I do? I’m not one to share”

It’s simple words meant to be said in the heat of the moment, words that really meant nothing, words meant to be forgotten once the act was over. But by this point you’re far too gone to think about your own words, head feeling too light and airy to really think about the implications of them

“You- you don’t have to share, sir” for some strange reason you felt the need to reassure him; reassure him that you were only his to have if that’s what he wanted , reassure him that he didn’t need to share if he didn’t want to.

Once the words leave your mouth you feel his touch leave you completely, cold air caressing the spot where his hands once had been.

Your words hang in the air for a moment, nothing but your own heavy breaths echoing throughout the otherwise silent room. For some reason you can’t help but feel like you said something you shouldn’t and it leaves you feeling rather embarrassed, eyes squeezing shut and hands clenching into fists. It really isn’t a confession by any means but it is something and that something had been enough to render him speechless.

His voice is low and breathy when he finally, finally speaks “What’s that boy?” You can’t see his face but you can hear his voice and by his tone it sounds like he purrs.

Goosebump raises across your skin, surprise and delight coursing through your body, the light and airy feeling you were earlier feeling, once again returns to your body.

You swallow hard before you respond “I said you don’t have to share sir”

You hear the sound of a sharp inhale before you feel his hand grab your face, roughly turning your head to face him.“Oh” his pupils are blown wide, desire swirling in his iris and he goes to lick his lips before he speaks “you're captain's boy now huh?” His voice is low and hoarse and when he says those words it sounds more like a statement rather than a question.

You whimper at his possessive tone, thighs once again pressing together at his words.

“Say it” he says, hand roughly jerking your chin “Say you’re captain’s boy”

“I’m captain's boy!” you cry out and as you say the words he groans and presses his cock up against your ass.

“Please sir I can’t take it anymore” you cry out, on the verge of sobbing out your words as you push yourself back on his cock.

He hushes you as whimpers escape your lips, hand releasing the grip on your chin to run down the length of your back in soothing motions.

“Let me take care of you, yeah? Let captain care for his boy”

You nod, mumbling something incomprehensible.

“Lay your head down” You do as he says, feeling his hand on your upper back, gently guiding you into the right position.

“Spread your legs” You do as he says and he hums in approval as he helps you adjust your hips.”Just like that. Doing so good for me, yeah?” You nod in response, feeling yourself preen at his approval.

“Now look at yourself boy,”

You turn your head to the big mirror hanging to the side of the training room. From this angle you can perfectly see both him and you.

The reflection shows you sitting on your knees, chest flush against the floor, arms planted into the ground for support with your legs spread wide apart like he’d told you to do before. Price’s also sitting on his knees, broad frame hovering over yours and hands on your hips to keep you close.

Both of you look disheveled, covered in sweat and with similar expressions on your faces that told anyone who’d walked through the doors that the two of you weren’t sparring in this room, at least not anymore.

“Pretty sight isn’t it?” He says with pride in his voice as his gaze locks with yours through the mirror.

You go to respond but before you can do so you feel a sudden pressure on your cock. “O-oh” you groan out as you look down in the mirror only to see Price’s leg lodged in between your own and feel the top of his knee perfectly grounding itself against your dick.

The steady pressure sets your nerves on fire

and a moan escapes your lips as you grind against up him, trying to get more of the feeling.

“I asked you a question,” he hisses. However he must’ve noticed your gaze locked on his leg because he says “eyes up here boy”

You do as he says, once again seeing your wrecked reflection in the mirror. “Pretty sight yeah?” You whimper and nod in response as he increases his pressure on your cock.“That’s Captain’s boy” he says as his gaze burns into your own, threatening to scorch you whole “Now keep looking at yourself, yeah?”

Just as you wonder what he’s about to do, you feel a sudden wet sensation between your legs. You look at him through the mirror, wide eyed and surprised only to see him grinning deviously with spit dribbling down his lips.

“Did you just-“

But before you can say anything else, you feel eager fingers spreading your folds and his mouth on your cock, his tongue laying flat on your dick, slowly dragging it from the top all the way to the bottom of it. As if hit with electricity, your body jolts and you drop your head to the floor as your hips bucks to meet his tongue. “Oh-oh fuck,”

His free hand squeezes the globe of your ass in warning and you’re quickly reminded of what you were supposed to be doing. “Sorry, sorry, sorry” you blabber out in response before you force yourself to once again look at yourself in the mirror.

You look like an absolute mess, pupils blown wide, hair in disarray and chest rapidly rising and falling.

Your face quickly morphs into one of surprise, breath feeling like it’s been punched out of your lungs when Price licks at your cock with renewed vigor, tongue pressing deeper between folds like there’s no underwear separating his lips from your cock.

The pressure of his tongue forces the fabric

of your underwear to directly press against your sensitive clit. And every time he swipes his tongue across your dick, it sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

You spread your legs wider, muscles slightly aching from the awkward angle as you grind up against his mouth. “Please, please, please”

His mouth soon makes its way to your clit,

wet lips lightly nibbling on it before his tongue flickers experimental at it. “Oh-oh” once again your gaze drops from the mirror, eyes squeezing shut as you lose yourself to the pleasure. Luckily Price seems too busy with other things to notice anything.

One lick two licks and he’s full on latching onto your clit, lips eagerly suckling at the engorged numb through the soiled fabric. He alternates between suckling and swirling his tongue around your clit before going back to pay attention to your dick.

The squelching sound that echoes throughout the room sounds straight up obscene and every time you hear it you feel your body burning as you relentlessly buck up into him.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry sir” you cry out, feeling rather embarrassed at your eagerness.

“Nothing to apologize for, told you I was going to take care of you, let me do so” You could’ve cummed right then and there, all traces of embarrassment gone as you allowed yourself to fully lose yourself to the pleasure.

It all quickly becomes too much for you. If his tongue isn’t on your clit then it’s running along the length of your dick. For each and every stroke he goes in deeper with his tongue. And your engorged numb is becoming more and more sensitive to his touch.

At some point you try to get away from him, desperately clawing at the floor and hips bucking away from him but he doesn’t allow you to leave, firmly planting his free hand on your ass cheek to keep you close to him.

“Please- please I can’t “ you sputter out, shaking your head as you try to get away from him.

“This is what you wanted, right? why are you trying to leave now?” He taunts, ceasing all movements as he pulls his mouth away from your dick.

“No!” You cry out, mourning the loss of his touch as you turn to look at him, teary eyed and with pleas threatening to fall from your lips. He’s sitting back on his knees, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and sporting the biggest grin. But your eyes quickly zoom in on the shine that seems to coat his lips. Not only is it on his lips but it's also on his chin and beard. Your eyes widen as you realize it’s a mix of his spit and your arousal and his grin widens, seemingly knowing what you were thinking.

“What did you say before? No?”

He takes one hand and swipes his thumb over his bottom lip, wetting the pad with remainments of your arousal before swiping it over your clit, rubbing agonizingly slowly whilst putting steady pressure on it as he speaks “This is too much for your little cock to handle huh?” He says, faux sympathy dripping from his lips as he reaches over to pet your hair mockingly.

You shake your head, attempting to respond to him but you’re rendered speechless, only able to mewl in response as he continually circles your sensitive numb. “I thought you were captain’s boy. If my boy can’t handle a simple blowie, how is he supposed to handle my dick?” He says as he grabs ahold of your hair, roughly tugging at it.

“I can- I can handle it sir I can candle it

!” you cry out, feeling his fingers lightly pinch your clit.

“That’s what I thought, lay back down for me again yeah?”

You nod, blabbering something incoherent as you resume your original position, allowing him to once again spread your folds and put his mouth on your cock.

Despite your previous words, you find yourself unable to sit still as you feel yourself tethering closer to the edge of your release. Your toes are curling, fingers digging into the mat below, and hips relentlessly bucking up against his tongue. You feel your cock growing more sensitive for every lick, your hole fluttering around nothing and the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Close- so close, just please, please”

All of a sudden his teeth scrape against your sensitive clit, once again putting just enough pressure to be properly felt through the fabric. And that’s all it takes for the knot in your stomach to unfold: eyes rolling into the back of your head, mouth agape as you furiously grind your hips on his tongue before you finally slump onto the floor, legs and arms giving out from supporting your weight for so long.

You feel Price run his hand soothingly down the length of your back and hear him say the words “There we go. That’s it, that's captain's boy.”

[giggles-and-freckles]

How about “you. Rest. Now.” for obi-wan?? And maybe a grumpy anakin being mad that his master’s avoiding sleep AGAIN?

from these extremely exhausted starters

“–and we’ll be waiting for you here.”

Obi-Wan used his good arm to point toward the lower quadrant on the holo-map.

“Very good, sir. Are you sure you don’t want to stay aboard and coordinate from the bridge? I can promise constant communication.”

“No, thank you, Cody. I’d prefer to–”

His words were lost as the door to the briefing room slammed open. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and prepared for the incoming storm.

“You.” Anakin barked, marching toward Obi-Wan. “Rest. Now.”

Cody’s eyebrows shot up and Obi-Wan noticed the two troopers in the corner of their room shift a bit, in spite of their helmets.

“Could we try for more dramatics next time, please?” Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing at his eyebrows.

“You’re supposed to be back on Coruscant.”

Obi-Wan shrugged easily. “I’m also supposed to have a well-mannered Padawan.”

“I’m not your Padawan anymore, Obi-Wan. Which means I get to call you on your shit.”

“Oh, like that stopped you before,” Obi-Wan said, feeling quite proud of himself for that particular dig.

“When was the last time you slept?” Anakin demanded.

“I don’t see why that’s–”

“Obi-Wan.”

He shifted his gaze about the room and landed on Cody, looking for relief. But the glance revealed how unwilling his Commander was to come to his aid.

Evil man, that Cody.

“I’ve been busy.”

Anakin huffed in frustration. “You’ve been in deep space for four days! And your arm is broken!” He threw his hands up, gesturing madly. “You were supposed to rejoin with the 212th, give them their new orders, and go home.”

“Brachin needed our help.”

“Brachin is a planet completely under Separatist rule. They’re beyond help.”

“Well–”

“But even so, you could send your men and go. They’re capable. Just look at him–” He jutted a finger toward Cody. “His posture’s perfect! I think he can handle a few battle droids.”

Obi-Wan lowered himself onto the bench he’d pulled up to the holoprojector because, if he was being honest–it was rather difficult to keep standing after, hmm...six days without proper sleep?

“I’m perfectly fine, Anakin,” he said.

Anakin spun on his heel. “Is he fine, Cody?”

“I–” Cody peered over Anakin’s shoulder at Obi-Wan’s withering glare and dropped his own eyes to the floor. “I don’t believe he is, sir.”

“HA!” Anakin cried in victory.

“Cody!” Obi-Wan cried in betrayal.

Anakin folded his arms over his chest and stared down at his old Master for several moments. It was his thinking face and one that only ever led to trouble. 

“You know what?” Anakin stretched his arms up above his head. “You leave me no choice. I have to do it.”

“Do what?”

Anakin forced an over-exaggerated yawn and took a few steps toward Obi-Wan. 

“Anakin…”

“I’m just suddenly so tired, Master,” Anakin yawned again, this performance even worse than the first. A few more stumbles toward Obi-Wan.

“Anakin, don’t you d–”

He collapsed across Obi-Wan’s lap.

“Get off me this instant.”

“Can’t.” The younger Jedi wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist. Anchored himself. “Too tired.”

“You are not.” He scoffed indignantly. “Honestly, Anakin, you’re not a Padawan anymore.”

“Well, yeah. If I was, you’d be scratching my back by now.”

Obi-Wan’s face turned bright red as he looked around the room. This time the troopers in the corner didn’t even try to hide their laughter. Cody simply lifted an amused eyebrow.

“He was a child.” Obi-Wan defended himself. “Had problems sleeping,” he muttered.

“Do you need someone to scratch your back, General?” Cody bravely piped up.

“Out.” Obi-Wan commanded with a deadpan frown. “Go practice your posture.” 

Cody and the troopers laughed their way down the hall as the door shut behind them.

What had Obi-Wan done to deserve this? A commander who found humour in his folly and a Padawan who inflicted the folly. Cruel, cruel jokes from the Force. Or Master Yoda. Whichever.

Anakin didn’t move.

“Show’s over. Your audience has departed.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Get off.”

“I’m pretty comfy, Master.”

“You weigh a ton, Anakin. And my arm–it’s...I can’t move it when you–”

The mound of man on top of him shifted.

“That better?”

Well, yes, but he wasn’t going to admit it.

After a moment, Obi-Wan relaxed and resigned himself to being crushed by his ridiculously stubborn Padawan. He wasn’t actually that heavy, anyway. Not with his body completely stretched across the bench. More like a warm blanket if anything.

He rested the arm that wasn’t in a sling across Anakin’s back.

“I’ll let Cody lead this mission and take the transport back to Coruscant this evening,” he said finally. Because his arm really was hurting and he really was so very sleep-deprived.

“Really?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile at the unbridled relief that seeped into the energy between them.

“Really.” Obi-Wan lightly moved his hand across his former Padawan’s back. “If he hasn’t quit by the time I tell him, that is.”

Anakin hummed in amusement. “If you haven’t scared him off by now, I think you’re safe.”

Familiar motions up and down Anakin’s dark tunic, his nails lightly scratching along the fabric. It has been years since he’d done this and the rational part of him knew it was foolish now. They were in a war and Anakin was a grown man.

But as Obi-Wan watched the deep rise and fall of his Padawan’s back as he continued his light ministrations, it wasn’t hard to forget that altogether. 21-years-old was hardly grown by any standards, other than a war’s. 

“Master?” Anakin murmured.

“Hmm?”

A pause. “I forgot what I was going to say.” His words slurred together and Obi-Wan had to withhold his chuckle because some things never change.

He felt the tension in Anakin dissipate slowly, slowly until it was gone. Only leaving behind soft breaths and a sleeping child. Because that’s what he still was, really.

Seems Obi-Wan wasn’t the only one who’d been missing out on sleep.

“Sleep well, Padawan,” Obi-Wan whispered, smiling to himself, because rest could come in many forms. Sometimes it involved a bed and darkness. But sometimes–sometimes it wasn’t so much a physical refresh as a mental one. And a bed and darkness would be a poor substitute for having someone you love so close.

[nevermindirah]

Yitzhak!

is a character! who Gregadiah What-Is-Math Rucka gave us almost no information about!

I've gone through Tales Through Time #6: The Bear and #1: My Mother's Axe with several magnifying glasses and done a lot of googling and taken my copy of the Tanakh off my shelf for the first time since (well, since the last time I needed to read Torah for TOG reasons, which I think was Booker Passover headcanons) and here's the best I can come up with.

In The Bear we meet someone who goes by the name Isaac Blue:

Read on for a lot of comic panel analysis and historical research and Jewish flailing!

So what do we know about this Isaac Blue person?

He's Lorge, he's got curly hair, he's basically a taller version of Joe as drawn by Leandro Fernández (ie an antisemitic stereotype why the fuck did they approve this character design?? and then why did they double down and copy-paste it to Yitzhak??):

He's got a mezuzah on the doorpost of his house in Alaska!

I screamed about the mezuzah way back in January in this post where I (very reasonably) assumed this character was Joe and spun myself a tale about how Booker is still Joe's brother so the mezuzah stays up even though Booker isn't welcome in that house for a century. Bottom line: the mezuzah is a tradition with origins in the commandment from Deuteronomy 6:9 to "write the words of G-d on the gates and doorposts of your house" and evolved over the course of the Rabbinic period into the modern mezuzah we see here.

I did unnecessary levels of google image search to glean absolutely no useful information about Yitzhak’s origins from this panel:

I've decided the variant cover of TTT 6 is Yitzhak because of a panel in My Mother’s Axe, shown here, and what's likely an unnecessarily deep reading of Exodus, discussed further down:

The person at the right of the bottom panel is wearing the same clothes as in the TTT 6 variant cover and has the same shoulder-length curly hair and hairy forearms.

Left to right, the people in this panel are Lykon (I'll never get used to him being white in the comics), Andy, Noriko (I think? why doesn't Andy mention her by name here?), and Yitzhak. Andy's robe has a stereotypically Greek design on the sleeve cuff, and I had to stop myself 10 minutes into a Wikipedia rabbit hole because Gregorforth doesn't think that deep about this shit. The solid clues as to timeline that we get in this panel are:

Andy's iron axe

the presence of Lykon, who Andy first met in 331 BCE

So all we know is that Yitzhak is an immortal, he was a contemporary of Lykon, and he's Jewish.

Isaac is the most common Anglicization of Yitzhak (which in turn is the most common Anglophone transliteration of יִצְחָק‎), and Greg always uses the (transliterated) Hebrew when he refers to this character. Yitzhak is the long-awaited child of Abraham and Sarah in Genesis, the child who G-d commanded Abraham to sacrifice but spared at the last minute. I see what you did there, Gregory.

Why Isaac Blue? This is where I pulled out my Tanakh. According to the New JPS translation, blue is the first of three colors of yarn listed in Exodus 35:6 among the gifts requested of the Israelites to construct the priestly garments for the Tabernacle and later the Temple. Then in Numbers 15:38 the Israelites are commanded to "make themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout the ages; let them attach a cord of blue to the fringe at each corner."

And now for sandbox timelines party! Gregadiah gave us ALMOST NOTHING to go on, so I'm gonna make my own fun.

I, like many modern Jews, think the stories in the Tanakh are foundational mythology that are valuable because of how they've shaped our people but that contain some fucked-up shit and either way aren't meant to be a record of historical facts. Modern scholarship generally agrees that the community we now call Jews emerged as a distinct group of Canaanites sometime in the late Bronze Age (cw this video's host says the Name of G-d aloud despite being a religious studies scholar who knows that is not a name anyone but the Temple priests are allowed to say). The first non-Biblical written record of the people Israel is from an Egyptian source c. 1200 BCE, and the Biblical kingdom of David and Solomon was probably an exaggeration of whatever really happened during the Bronze Age Collapse. We start getting into historical-fact territory a few centuries into the Iron Age:

588 BCE Solomon's Temple destroyed, Babylonian exile begins

538 BCE Cyrus of Persia allows Jews to return to Jerusalem

515 BCE Second Temple construction complete

332 BCE Alexander the Great At Something I Guess conquered Judea, beginning the Hellenistic period of Jewish history — 331 BCE Andy & Lykon find each other

167 BCE another jerkface Greek king desecrated the Temple and basically outlawed Judaism

164 BCE recapture of Jerusalem and Temple rededication during the Maccabean Revolt

70 CE destruction of the Second Temple by the Romans, beginning of the Rabbinic period of Jewish history that we're still in now

What if... and hear me out... what if immortals come in pairs, and the pairs are:

Andy & Quynh

Joe & Nicky

Booker & Nile

LYKON & YITZHAK

What if Yitzhak was a priest of the Second Temple? What if he and Lykon killed each other just like Joe and Nicky would in the same city around 1300 years later, but instead of enemies-to-lovers speedrun with an absurdly long happily-ever-after, when Lykon died permanently Yitzhak decided to separate from Andy and Noriko and become the hermit we later see in Alaska?

We don't know how old Yitzhak is compared to the others, only that he was a contemporary of Lykon at a time when Andy was using an Iron Age version of her mother's axe. Other plausible origins for him:

a Jew of the early Rabbinic period, maybe a child or grandchild of people who were still alive before the Second Temple was destroyed

a Judean of the Second Temple era under the Romans or Greeks or Persians, maybe a priest, maybe not

an exilee in Babylon, maybe of the generation who got to return, maybe of the generation who was exiled (he doesn't look like he was 50 at his first death but who knows, he could've been mortal for both)

an Israelite of the Kingdoms of Israel and Judah, maybe a priest of Solomon's Temple or again maybe not

an Israelite wandering in the desert with Moses

THEE Yitzhak, ben Avraham v'Sarah, our patriarch who was brought up for sacrifice and then spared, and then spared again, and then spared again, and again, and again...

or! he could also be a Canaanite or other Levantine who predates the people Israel, who at some point in his very long life chose to join our mixed multitude, who like Andromache before him (and like Avram and Sarai would in this case do after him) took a new name to reflect the magnitude of influence this people has had on him

Why do I keep saying Yitzhak might have been a priest? It's thanks to the one detail in the artwork I could plausibly connect to solid research without getting a PhD real quick. Take a look at the gorgeous detail on the opening of his robe in the TTT 6 cover. He's dressed in rags, holes and dirt everywhere, rough stitches probably from hasty repair work — except for the neck opening. Compare that to this description from Exodus 39:23 of the construction of the priestly garments for the Tabernacle: "The opening of the robe, in the middle of it, was like the opening of a coat of mail, with a binding around the opening, so that it would not tear."

The next verses describe the intricate designs for the hem of the priestly garment. Yitzhak's ragged garment looks like the hem was torn off entirely.

Am I overthinking this? Yes I am! You're welcome!

My friend and historical research hero @lady-writes​ is in a Discord server with Gregadiah and asked the man himself some questions about all this. He clearly thinks he's being sneaky?? No shit Yitzhak is Jewish, dude, I want DETAILS!

I will not be giving up my Jewish Booker headcanon, I've put too much thought into it by now, the internalized shame of antisemitism explains Booker's depression too well for me, and it just adds so much richness to Booker/Nile both being children of forced diasporas. Fortunately (for him, not me, bc I'd do it anyway!) Gregothy supports fan headcanons even when they're not in line with his own:

One last thing before I close like 100 research tabs and go back to writing historical fantasy and/or porn! I love that, despite that atrocious caricature of a face design, our canon Jew and our fanon Jew are both Lorge and Soft and Kind, flying the face of the antisemitic stereotype of Ashkenazi Jewish men as small and weak, but also not falling into the New Jew / Muscle Jew stereotype that Zionism created. (I am trying SO HARD not to talk about Israel/Palestine for once ughhhhhhhhhh) Anyway here's a (US-centric but very good) primer on both these stereotypes of Jewish masculinity. Is this why I'm forever projecting my transmasc diasporist feels onto Jewish Booker the service sub? 🤷🏻‍♂️

I’ll reblog a second version of this with full image descriptions so that there’s a version accessible for folks who need IDs as well as a version accessible for folks who get overwhelmed by walls of text.

[akumaalert]

not a request just sharing bc i couldn't stop thinking of just "what if lucky called heis good boy" like how he calls her good girl sometimes but like.. i'm pretty sure he would break

This was supposed to be a mini-fic....but...uh....it'll likely be the first chapter of "Divergence" instead LMAO But hope you enjoy!

Good Boy

Karl Heisenberg x Reader, Explicit

CW: Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism, Voyeurism, Happy Ending, Virgin!Karl Heisenberg

An AU happening during chapter 19 of "Heavy Metal Lover" but can be read without reading the main story.

"Unfh..."

That had been the first noise from Lucky besides the scratch of a pencil against paper that he had heard in about an hour.

Stuck in his office with her as he searched for a misplaced - not lost, just misplaced! - core schematic, Heisenberg tried to ignore the nagging thought of how domestic the space had become. Lucky never moved his things - something he was infinitely grateful for. He could recall too well his ever boiling frustration at having his room "cleaned" when living in the castle. The maids were well-meaning, but always adjusting. The room he had held would have felt more his own had he been able to move his own furniture around without the chambermaids fawning over him.

"No, no, young Lord Heisenberg! This is all wrong...off you go...go play...we will fix this mess."

Now on his own and in his element of chaos, he felt comforted, even if secretly so, that Lucky never seemed to complain.

Comforted...but cautious.

The day at the stronghold seemed stamped into his memory...right in the front for all to see. It remained a wonder Lucky didn't see it on his face.

The knowledge.

The horrible, horrible knowledge.

Love.

Staring at an old newspaper clip-out that he had saved with a picture of a modern car on its faded pages, he absently pushed the glasses back up his nose.

It tired him - the constant need to flip back and forth between acknowledging his feelings and thrusting them as far down as he could manage. Drowning them out with that beautiful sound of cinching machinery. Allowing them to seep into him with every laugh from her lips.

Heisenberg was starting to fall in love with the woman. The woman he had failed to kill - the lucky one to survive his maze. The woman his mother expected him to impregnate in order for Miranda's mad vessel to be born and to be killed all in the name of misery.

Misery otherwise known as Eva.

Slowly but certainly, Lucky was driving him insane. Reminding him of things he could never, ever have. Teasing him over and over for days on end.

Heisenberg remembered all too well his reason for entering the office. He had nearly sliced his own arm clean off his shoulder when he lost himself to his situation. To the possibility that, despite his body being so ill-suited for the task, Lucky could have his child. Would want his child. His thoughts, as they so often did, snapped back to the need for freedom - for the need for the arms to come loose from his latest corpse to transform them into one of his many soldiers.

But the more he thought of freedom, the more she sat in the background of his mind.

The more she sat there, the more his tired musings began to stitch together.

The more freedom and Lucky - the two dreams of his world - became intertwined.

He had been thinking of her - of Lucky - beside him the day that he won freedom from the village.

Won freedom...and her.

"You did it, Heis! You did it!"

Lucky would never know how dear it was to him...the fact that her emotions ran so freely with her very being. Beaming. She would do nothing less than beam at him. Her eyes would glow and crinkle at their tails as they did when she gave him her most genuine smiles.

"You did it. You're free. Our...our family is free."

"...family?"

She would grab his hand. Just one. He needed the other steady on her cheek.

Lucky would bring that hand clasped in her own to her belly.

"Our family..."

"Our...another...another Heisenberg?"

In his dreams, she shyly escaped his gaze to nod.

"You...you haven't been alone. Not with me. Not with the start of our family. But now...now, Heis..." Her eyes popped back up all soft and sincere. "Now you'll never be alone again. Not with our baby Heisenberg on the way..."

The only break from his reverie was the slice to one of his favorite stained t-shirts. Only the fact that it was Heisenberg's powers directing the saw had it falling to the floor instead of through his tensed skin.

Heisenberg could only stand in shocked silence. The arm that had been spared from the violence came to grab his shoulder. Though no injury had occurred, he felt stabbed all the same.

Family...and joy?

Lucky...with him?

Another Heisenberg...alive?

A thought washed over him like ice entering his veins.

A boy or a girl...would we have a boy or a girl first?

First.

As if Lucky wished to be objected to more of his perverted and preposterous daydreams.

When he left the room, the metal was still shaking.

"Gotta get that fucking schematic...keep forgetting it...keep going to the office and...fuck...keep talking to her. Gotta stop fucking talking to her. Schematic. Get the fucking schematic."

Lucky had been asleep in bed when he first entered. A rushing relief to his soul. But as the search for the schematic went from flipping through one file to frantically reshuffling the wayward stack the paper should have been in, he knew it was only a matter of time before she would appear.

"Oh...ah!" Lucky yawned all cute and squeaky. "Good morning, Heis."

"Morning," he said flatly. "You...you move any of these lately?"

"No," she said sleepily. "I don't touch those...way above my pay grade. What are you looking for?"

"Core schematic," he grumbled. "Not fucking here...where the hell did I put it?"

Though Lucky made a very pointless questioning noise, she said nothing as she sat down and began her daily transcriptions. Hell, he had been grateful. She showed concern because she was simply a good person beneath all of the trauma and the terror she had reigned on his self-image. But she didn't pry or attempt to enter his space afterward where she would clearly only be in the way.

But that was before her second moan filled the office.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, never looking up from his stack of papers.

A frustrated sigh and a grumble came from the desk chair.

"Think I slept on my neck funny last night," she said. "Doesn't help that my posture is shit. Just making it impossible to find a good angle to work in."

Growing agitated at his fruitless search, Heisenberg whipped around to look at her. "Want some help?"

"Mmn?"

"Want a massage or something?" he offered. "A...ha! You'll find this funny. Supersized one up in the castle? Used to love to make me massage her neck when I was a kid. Fucking manual labor when I was barely old enough to write. Had maids to do it - an assload at that - and forced me to instead."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Lucky frowned. "Was it...did she...did she hurt you? Like...if you didn't do it?"

"Ah nah," he said, taking careful steps over to Lucky. "Told you...when I was a kid, I was off limits. I whine about it now...but...well...I was a kid. Bitch loves kids. So I had to massage her back...but only part of this stupid salon thing we used to do together. It was nothing. Stupid. Just like her."

He did not know what to make of Lucky's face. Tilting her head, she steadied a look on him that could only be called curious.

"It's...it's a good memory? Of Alcina when you were small?"

Heisenberg scoffed.

"It's a memory," he said, standing behind Lucky with a wide stance and an even wider stare at her neck. "Not good or bad...just...there. Now...where's it hurt, kid?"

Raising a hand, Lucky placed her fingers on a section of her neck before swirling her touch.

"Ah...there...like just this one spot, but fanning out..."

"Okay...looks like your C7."

"My what now?"

Chuckling, Heisenberg moved her hand out of the way. "Your C7 vertebrae. Duck your chin down so I can get in here properly."

Doing as she was told, Lucky's head moved forward and Heisenberg placed his gloved hands against her neck. His thumbs encased the pained area and began to move in slow yet sturdy circles.

Lucky immediately began squirming.

"Can you maybe try without the gloves?" she asked. "Those are like...rough or something."

Casting off his gloves quickly, Heisenberg rolled his shoulders before trying again. "Wah, wah, wah...doing you a favor and you're out here complaining. That better, your highness?"

"Yes, actually," she said, relaxing. "And thank you. Asshole."

Puffing air out of his mouth, Heisenberg merely shook his head as he kneaded her skin.

"Mmn!"

Heisenberg tried to hide his stillness by immediately starting to massage her skin again.

But the noise could not be ignored.

"What was that?"

"Your hands...they're so warm. Fuck...feels good."

"Oh..." he said dumbly. Blinking down at her, he turned his head away as he kept his fingers in motion.

The fact that his cock had begun to waken in his pants was not lost on him.

"Are you using your electric powers? Is that why it feels so good?"

"Nah...really shouldn't do that on the living above the waist."

Above the waist...but below the waist...

"Ah," he continued, running his teeth over the scar on his lower lip. "Cause of the heart or whatever. Probably your brain too from this angle. Could fry both without meaning to. And I was working...earlier. Probably why they feel hot."

Lucky sighed as he continued to work her neck. His fingers were sweeping but slow. He had started off so intently and so rough. What had happened?

I felt her skin. Felt her beneath me. Felt her neck...for all she knows I could snap it right now and instead of being afraid she's welcoming me...she trusts me...trusts me enough to let me do this...

The next round of his fingers on her neck dipped into skin purposeful in their worship.

Her response was immediate.

"Oh...oh...good boy," she whispered.

To say he was lost for words was like calling water wet.

Though he kept his massage in a rhythmic round, his eyes were wide as they could possibly be behind his glasses. So wide that they hurt.

What the hell did she just do to me?

If he had to go off of physical injury, he would say she punched him in the stomach with all the force of a train running at full speed.

If he had to go off of an attack to his psyche, he would say she wormed her way into some long buried and forgotten wire that sent his entire brain into overdrive.

If he had to go off the erection now straining against his paints, he would say that he was royally fucked.

"You really are so good at this," she said, her voice still breathless. "Good boy...my good boy, Heis."

Heisenberg snatched his hands away as if Lucky were lava.

"Wait! No...what's wrong?" she asked, turning slightly to look at him.

If she looks down...if she sees...

"GOTTA TAKE A SHIT!" he exclaimed suddenly.

Lucky's mouth dropped open as she gaped at him.

Then she nodded with a laugh playing at her lips.

"Yeah. Go. Just come back and finish your massage."

Before he could finish blinking, he found himself storming down the hallway.

Well...intending to storm. His gait was impacted a bit by his dick standing at full mast and his hands hurriedly attempting to unbuckle the straps around his pants.

So FUCKING dumb. A shit? Really? he thought, visibly grimacing. It would have probably been less embarrassing to admit I was about to jack it to her calling me hers.

Hers...her good boy...good...I'm her good boy...hahaha...

What am I? A fucking dog?

...don't answer that.

Rushing into the break room, he considered the couch before catching sight of the bathroom. With a flick of one wrist as his other hand pulled his cock from his underwear and pants, Heisenberg slammed open the bathroom door.

He managed to slide his pants down his legs as he sat on the toilet and closed the door with the weakest of hand movements.

Finally free from judgment, Heisenberg hissed as he fumbled his glasses to the nearby counter and took himself into his hand.

"Good boy...her good boy...fuck...fuck yeah I am, baby..."

A groan and a grunt fell from his lips as he jerked his hand along his shaft.

All too often this act had been nothing but release from tension. An exploration so technical and so tedious as to be boring. But now with Lucky at his side and in his bed - however platonically she slept there - the images that plagued him seemed vibrantly real and tempting in their joyful teasing.

Imaginings - hopes and dreams and fantasies - that he could only cling onto in the moment.

The desk.

He would take her right on that same desk she was taking notes on.

"Oh, Karl," she would say, despite not knowing his first name. "Gonna be my good boy?"

"Yes," he said aloud, eyes closing and mind prickling with sights of her and waves of pleasure.

Lucky would be splayed on his desk - lying on her back and presenting herself to him as if she were a meal to be consumed instead of a darling treasure to worship.

"That's good...only good boys are allowed to fuck me. Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes...yes...god fucking damnit. YES." Huffing and hating the tremble in his thighs, Heisenberg bucked into his hand. "Yes...only me...wanna be your good boy. I'll be so good for you. Only you, Mein Schatz..."

A dirty laugh from her lips. The Lucky of his dreams becoming more and more defined as she palmed one breast and teased her clit with the fingers of her other hand.

"Mmm...know what you're saying you know...my treasure...that's so cute...been feeling the same way about you lately...thinking of you...dreaming of you...my good boy want to tell me what else he's been feeling? Mmn? Big boy wanna tell me before you put your cock inside of me?"

Lips loose along with his pleasure, Heisenberg found he could not build his voice to say the words aloud.

So he mouthed them instead. Mouthed them and stuttered in his quest for pleasure as his hand curled about his shaft at the "lah" tipping silently from his tongue.

"Oh, darling..." A smile. She'd smile. Genuine and sweet and sincere and all for him. "I love you too, Karl."

"Mmnnn....ah...fu-UCK!" With a panicked inhale, Heisenberg quickly pinched the head of his cock to prevent his end from coming too soon. "No, no, no...not yet...not yet...please..."

Though the pleasure was unlike anything he had previously experienced and his calves clenched in protest of a release delayed, his oncoming orgasm stalled and began to fade.

"Such a good boy," said Lucky, eyeing him in his fantasy like she would look at a drink of water on a hot day. "That's right. You don't come until I tell you to. Understand?"

A nod of his head.

"Good, good boy. My good boy. Good Karl. Come on...think it's time you got your treat...here...I'll help you..."

With her fingers moving to fully expose the inside of that wet and preciously pink pussy of hers, Lucky looked up at him with a lidded look.

Heisenberg had no experience with another person when it came to handling his physical pleasure. Hell, with any pleasure or positive feeling at all. Except maybe the triumph of victory over others, he had never had the chance to experience happiness - true happiness and trust and faith in another soul.

Until her.

And for her...for her he would indulge and give himself freely...if only locked away inside of his mind.

Inexperience taking a back seat to passion, he pictured himself guiding his cock into her waiting and welcoming body. Maybe he would steady himself with a hand on her hip or simply with a heated stare into her eyes.

He all but strangled his cock to try to mimic a feeling he had never known and had never thought to miss before her.

"Uh-huh," whined Lucky in his dreams. "Oh...you're so big...fill me up just right. So fucking thick..."

"Hah...ah...your good boy big enough for you?"

"Yes...oh yes...yes...so big...such a perfect dick...please...please Karl...Heis...please, baby, please...Heis?"

When he began to rut into his own hand with a purpose, he felt flames like that of standing directly beside the blaring crucible dancing across his cheeks. Though some of his daydream seemed vague and hard to read, he had enough to know that he could not delay the inevitable for much longer. Lucky - the real and actual Lucky - was still waiting for him back in the office. Waiting and none the wiser to his desperate need for her affection. It sickened him - the want for anything and everything to do with her.

Sickened him...and sent electric shocks of white pleasure down his spine.

"So fucking perfect...you're so fucking perfect for me, Lucky...oh..."

"Heis..."

"Huh...ah...already so close...so damn worked up...can't stand it...can't stand you looking like that..."

"Like what?"

Heaving and heatedly squirming where he sat, Heisenberg noticed for the first time that one of his boots jutted up and down on the floor beneath him. As if his entire body refused to be still.

"Most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen," he bit out. "Please...please, Luck...I know it's soon...but please..."

A tilted head and a gentle grin. A pointer finger that danced around her clit and drew his eyes away only long enough for her to breathe out shallow and short. His eyes snapped back to hers immediately.

"Please what?"

"Please let me come...let me come inside you...wanna...wanna take you...claim you...don't want you with anyone else ever again."

Glinting eyes and lush eyelashes.

"You're gonna be all that to me, Heis? Well...in that case..."

Her lips finding his own. His very first kiss - albeit imaginary. Her lips soft but without taste. His own lips puckering even as they trembled from the need for more.

"In that case," she continued, taunting him in his ear. "Come, Heis. Be a good boy and come for me."

Hindsight would have him chastising himself for not thinking to grab some tissue. In the moment, however, he was too busy panting and watching his cum dot the floor in thick strips. Heisenberg growled...tried to hold on to the image of her with one eye still closed.

Reality settled in on him. Settled in even as his stomach quivered underneath his shirt and his orgasm began to relax into his bones. It was pleasant and his every nerve seemed to stand on edge. Tingles of pleasure radiated from his chest to his feet flat against the floor. Gulping in air, he knew he had never come so hard before in his life. It was good...great even.

But it was not her. It was not enough.

Clean up was a quick and tedious affair. Lucky could not know what he had done in her quarters. The tissues he found too late to wipe his seed from the floor were tossed and flushed away. He checked the room once and then again once his shades were back on his face.

Finishing the belt at the top of his pants, he cleared his throat before exiting.

The television in the break room still hummed though it sat completely dead in the meager light from the ceiling.

Shit...glad she wasn't in here. Never had anyone here to care about when I got down to business...no telling what my powers do with electronics...

The schematic. He had to find that damn schematic.

Trying to level his breathing as he stalked the hallway, Heisenberg considered the day before him. Lucky had not wished to attend a revitalization attempt with him yet. While he didn't intend to push her into seeing something that might scar her again, it might be worthwhile to have her eyes in the room at some point. She hadn't complained about the notes yet. Maybe he should offer? Make it sound like a small deal and let her in when it was near completion? Give her a taste before exposing her to more?

Fucking stupid...it's all so fucking stupid...what happened to me? If she were any assistant, I would just drag her ass there and have her record the whole thing. Fuck me with all this concerned shit.

But she's not just any assistant...

Entering the office, he stilled at the doorway when he saw Lucky facing him from her chair.

"Uh...hey," he said, licking his lips. "Sorry about that. Took...ah...let's just forget it."

"Actually," she began. "I need to be honest with you. Because of what happened before..."

Eyebrows shooting up, he stood in silence before she continued.

"Um...so...I was sitting here...sitting here and trying to rub my neck or whatever..."

"Yes?"

"Well...the radio came on and it freaked me out a little bit..." She paused, her fidgety look dropping to the floor. "But...the more I listened...the more I...recognized your voice."

"My...my voice?"

"Yes."

Heisenberg could not move. He shouldn't be looking at her, but he was afraid if he blinked that the tension would break and she would begin laughing or cursing or, worst of all, apologizing.

"Umm...it...I heard you. And I guess you were...I guess it was real time." A tent of her fingers and a swallow in her throat. "I heard your comment and responded and...I think...I think you could hear me too. Possibly? You seemed to...seemed to be replying to what I said directly."

Shame. Shame for a million years fell on his shoulders that had felt so light before.

"Where?" he managed to say. "Where did you come in? What comment did you respond to?"

How she looked at him, he had no idea. She was far braver than he could ever be. Heisenberg planned to face down Miranda without a single hesitation one day on that glorious battlefield where his freedom could be won.

But now? Faced with Lucky standing and walking toward him with the full weight of her eyes upon him?

He looked away.

"You said...you asked me if my good boy was big enough for me."

The purr in her voice. The sound of her steps growing closer. The burn in his throat.

"After that," she said. "I called your name...I...responded to you and you to me."

"That didn't...I..." He shook his head. "I...umm..."

"Can I hold your hand?"

Head shooting up, Heisenberg caught her heated look. The same heated look she had worn in his dreams.

He nodded. Nodded even though he barely registered it until she took his hand and steps to press herself flush against him.

When she spoke, it was hushed and low.

For him and him only.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom...freshen up. Since we know you can communicate from the radio to the television...I want you to tell me when it's okay to come back here. I'm giving you two options."

Heisenberg hung on her every word and looked at her as if she controlled his every movement.

"The first...you can leave. Can give me enough time to go there...find what you were looking for...then tell me you're off to do whatever. I won't mention this again. We won't mention it."

Silence fell between the two of you. A crackle of the radio to the side of the room.

"And the other option?" he asked, voice nearly breaking.

A shy look. A happy tilt of her lips.

"The other option...you can rest for a bit before I come back here and make whatever fantasy you were having come true."

A mouth drier than dry left his tongue feeling too large. Too large and too needed to swipe across his lips.

"You don't have to answer now-"

"The second one," he said. "Second one. Want that one. Screw the first one."

A bright and happy smile. A smile that crinkled the tail of her eyes and lit up her face.

She was beaming at him. Squeezing his hand before parting from him.

Not for long...not for damn long if he could help it.

"You give me the word then, good boy," she teased, walking out of the room.

Legs nearly buckling and sending him to the ground, Heisenberg took uneasy steps to his office chair before throwing himself on it. His entire body buzzed, though it seemed far less like electricity and far more like promise and hope. Not love on her end...not yet. But a maybe. Potential.

More.

Grinning stupidly and looking at the desk, he made quick work of clearing the area for the fun he planned on having from his daydream to come true.

As soon as he picked up the recorder Lucky used to transcribe his notes, Heisenberg saw it.

That damned schematic.

His last visit to this same room. A note on said schematic stating "DON'T FORGET" in large words. A note he carelessly put there before guiding Lucky to sit down to look at her transcriptions and laugh with her over the sixth stable boy in one week to die of drunken stupidity.

Quietly and contentedly, he opened the desk drawer to stuff the schematic inside.

"Mmn...don't think I'll need you for a while yet actually..." Eyeing the radio on the wall, Heisenberg tossed his glasses to the table and tried to slick and perfect the wiry hair about his head. "Oh, Lucky, honey...room is ready whenever you are...and so is your good boy."

[manonblaqkbeak]

Among the Stacks

Back for Day 4-Librarians/Libraries, which I was super thrilled to see on the list, since I’m a certified library assistant and librarian technician and a big advocate for libraries in general and how important they are to society for a number of reasons!!!

This is just some wholesome fluff, most of these fics are (bc thats all i write lol) but i am preparing for a lil angst on the 10th ;)

Hope you all enjoy! :)

cw: none

1.5k words

There were many reasons why Aelin loved being a librarian technician and working at Orynth Public Library (of course there were reasons she very much disliked it, but the positives outweighed the negatives). The ever present scent of books was one, and the fact that she saved a ridiculous amount of money from borrowing books instead of buying them, as purchasing them became close to an addiction. The regular patrons that visited. Helping people with creating resumes and look for jobs because they couldn't afford laptops or computers at home, and looking for jobs on phones was annoying.

The overflowing suggestion box filled with ideas for books and ways to make the library more homely. Her comfortable office chair and her favourite cafe owned by a high school friend right around the corner, and the fact that Nesryn gave her discounts because she had set her up with her now-fiance Sartaq.

The laughter of babies and young children when it was story-time and the drawings that they created. The people that came to the library just to be somewhere else without feeling the pressure of having to spend money. The people that came sorely for the free WiFi and power-boards to charge their phones.

Working with her childhood friend and pseudo-sister Elide. And one very handsome and kind construction worker, Rowan Whitethorn.

Elide said that Aelin was in love with Rowan, with how she gushed over how pretty and intelligent he was, but Aelin denied that. It would be absurd to be in love with him. She just really liked him.

The only problem was she hadn't had the chance to ask him out on a date. She only saw him when he came in the library, and it was inappropriate to ask someone out while at work. There was also the fact that while he came here weekly, she wasn't sure if he was single, because surely someone that handsome had to be with someone.

But he hadn't mentioned any partners and Aelin didn't spot a ring, either on his finger or on a chain around his neck, but it still made Aelin hesitate.

Elide had told Aelin many times that when Rowan was here, he made 'heart eyes' when Aelin's back was turned. Aelin scoffed at the notion, but her heart flipped at that—Elide was freakishly observant and knew how to read people to a minuscule level.

Aelin was in the middle of covering the latest hardbacks, her mind completely focused on the task, when Elide said, typing away, “It's eleven A.M.”

Aelin looked at the large clock behind her and nodded. “That it is.”

A small smile was on Elide's lips, her dark eyes bright. “Just thought I'd let you know. Since a certain someone usually comes in around eleven-fifteen on Saturdays if he hasn't been here during the week.”

Elide could sometimes be as subtle as a brick to the head. Aelin finished the last book and cleaned her hands off with the hand sanitiser. She could feel her friends dark stare at the back of her head.

“I'm aware, thank you,” was all Aelin said.

If Aelin didn't ask Rowan out soon, Elide was going to do it for her—no matter how often Aelin repeated about the inappropriate aspect of it all.

Elide thought that was bullshit.

Telling her friend that she was going to put these books on the 'New Releases' shelf, Aelin once again focused on her task, straightening up other books as she went.

She had just finished up when a deep voice said behind her, “Good morning, Aelin.”

Smiling, she turned. “Good morning, Rowan.” She spotted his current read in his large hands. “How's the book going?”

He returned her smile. “Great. I was wondering if you had the sequel?”

“We should do, just follow me.” They had their usual conversations about their week, with Rowan telling her how a fellow worker had injured himself and how it had turned the whole production upside down. Apparently, his site manager was sweating buckets the entire time, fretting about paperwork more than anything else.

Aelin didn't envy his work at all. While there were chances for Aelin or others to hurt themselves in the library, the worst that had happened to Aelin in all her years here was a bruised foot after dropping a dictionary and the rare scolding she had received from her boss, Glennis, for not wearing the proper footwear. Her bruised foot was nothing compared to the torture of having to watch an hour long video about work health and safety the following morning.

As Aelin found the sequel, they stayed hidden among the stacks, talking about everything and nothing, with Aelin temporarily forgetting that she was at work and had other duties to attend to.

Because it was hard to remember what those duties were when she got lost in his dark green eyes. Especially when they trailed down the tattoo that started at his temple and down his neck, to his fingertips.

Aelin had never really been a fan about facial tattoos, but she really liked his. It suited him.

However, she was abruptly reminded of her job when she heard a young voice call out her name. It was one of her regular patrons, Evangeline, who was always here after school and on Saturdays tackling her homework and assignments. Her foster parents were negligent and didn't think that she needed a laptop to do her school work, since they didn't back in the “old days”, completely unaware that it was the digital age and laptops and computers were vital to get the work done.

Aelin excused herself, finding Evangeline flustered at her favourite spot, the desktop frozen and unaware of what to do. It was hard not to crush the girl into a hug when Aelin saw tears in her eyes, scared that she was going to get into trouble.

“Don't worry,” Aelin told the girl kindly, “it'll be okay. Sometimes computers get grumpy and have temper tantrums but I just know the right way to fix it.”

Unaware that Rowan left the stacks, she missed his soft smile as he watched her work her magic, instructing Evangeline step by step what to do if it happened again.

He made his way to the front desk, where Elide was still furiously typing away, muttering underneath her breath about cataloging.

Deciding that it would best to leave her to it and use the self-serve machine, Elide cleared her throat, catching his attention, and said, “Aelin's single.”

Elide was sick of watching them dance around each other. She understood Aelin's hesitancy, she did, but if she had to watch them flutter their eyes at each other one more time, she was going to lose it.

And Elide was aware that Rowan was aware of why Aelin hadn't asked him out, and that he didn't want to appear inappropriate and ask Aelin out while she was at work. Elide respected for it, truthfully.

So Elide had decided to do it herself, inappropriateness be damned.

Rowan blinked, and blinked again, clearly unsure what to say or do. He came back over to her desk, tattooed hand striking against the plain book cover.

But he recollected himself, and asked, “Does she suffer from hay-fever?”

“No. And once she's done helping Evangeline over there, she'll be going to her favourite cafe for her late morning caffeine fix.”

Rowan nodded, his mind already on what flowers he would buy for her. She had a small Kingsflame tattoo on her wrist and told him it was her favourite flower when he asked her about it weeks ago. “Thank you, Elide.”

Elide simply smiled and reached for his book as Aelin came around, talking to the both of them, when Rowan asked if they knew of any good cafes.

It was good that he was finally taking that step, but Elide had to stop herself from laughing at how completely unsubtle the question was. Elide was already prepared for when Aelin would ask her later what happened between them.

But Aelin smiled and told him of her favourite place and they left together.

X X X X X X

Aelin ordered her usual, a caramel macchiato with two shots, and Rowan ordered a flat white with soy milk (he suffered from lactose intolerance, which Aelin would hate if that was her, because she had once tried lactose free chocolate and it was dreadful).

Rowan pulled out her chair when they sat out front, taking a seat across from her. Her heart flipped at the sweet gesture.

“I was wondering,” he started off with, his eyes staring unflinchingly into hers, “if you'd like to go out on a date sometime?”

Aelin didn't even think twice before accepting and they planned it out right there, exchanging numbers at the end of it. He walked her back to the library, a small smile on both their lips.

From the smile that Elide gave her when she returned, Aelin knew she was involved—and not at all surprised—and at that moment, Aelin was very happy to have a friend like Elide.

And for her date that very night with Rowan.

[phykios]

i meant to have this up on friday but i didn’t bc i’m lame anyway, this is dedicated to my dearest dearest peyton 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 one year ago last friday i had the distinct pleasure of sliding into her dms on discord, several fics and 72 separate aus later, here we are. so, for our friendiversary, have a sexy origin story for percabeth 😁

Say So, for @darkmagyk​ [read on ao3] rated E for sexual content (spicy!!! pls be advised!!!) cw: recreational drug use, experimental bondage, and an accidental hit during intercourse

“I don’t think it’s working,” Annabeth says.

“Just give it a minute.” Sofia sounds gone already, hazy and dreamy.

She gives it a minute.

“Am I supposed to feel something?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m not.”

“You gotta be patient,” says Jordan. Throaty and full, her already deep voice is even deeper, almost vibrating in the air.

Annabeth blinks. “Maybe they gave you actual grass. Or maybe I’m too much of a square for it to affect me.” Sofia snorts. “I’m serious. You know at my summer camp they started giving me counselor responsibilities when I was twelve? Percy always said I wouldn’t know what fun was if it hit me in the face. And it’s not like he was wrong, like I spent most of my childhood reading ancient Greek or learning how to use a knife but there were some pretty ridiculous extenuating circumstances and I really wanted this older boy at camp to like me, and why am I talking so fast?”

Masako giggles. “You’re stoned.”

“I am?”

“Stoned,” she confirms.

“High,” says Sofia.

“Intoxicated!” sings Jordan.

“Oh, wow.” She can feel every blade of grass beneath her, tickling along her bare legs, the wind caressing her face, the sounds of Berkeley--frat boys playing Ultimate, rush-hour traffic, a thousand different conversations about nothing and everything--muffled behind a glass wall. “I’m high.”

Sofia laughs. “How does it feel?”

“It feels…” She licks her lips. They taste like avocado fries and sunshine. “It feels like…” Slow. The turn of the earth so soft and gentle, like the tides in the lake when Percy is in a good mood. Like the liminal space between sleepfulness and wakefulness, when you’ve taken a nap and can’t remember what year it is. Like wading through a magical time spell, but warm. “You know what I mean?”

“Annabeth,” says Masako. “You didn’t say anything.”

“What?” She raises her head, looking over at her friend. Her eyes are closed, her hands running along the grass of the quad. “I didn’t?”

“Nothing.”

Annabeth lets her head fall back, thumping the earth. “Oh, theoi, I’m high.”

Overcome, Jordan starts laughing, curling onto her side. The rest aren’t far behind. 

Soon they’re not laughing at her anymore, they’re just laughing to laugh. Laughter is fun, she realizes, her breath and blood whooshing through her body, every muscle and bone in her body united in one single pursuit of joy. Her eyes are squeezed shut, cheeks aching from the force of her smile, her body curled in on itself, wracked with euphoria.

Sofia giggles so hard she snorts, setting them all off again.

Wading through an onslaught of laughter, high and squeaky, Annabeth gasps out, “Why am I laughing so much?”

“Because you’re high, girl!” Jordan crows. She has turned herself over on her front, her face pressed against the grass. “Have you really never gotten high before?”

“Don’t tease her,” says Sofia, awkwardly patting Annabeth’s knee. “You know she hasn’t done anything.”

She has done stuff, she almost says--before she shuts her mouth with an audible clack.

“Not even at your camp?” Jordan asks, befuddled. Befuddled is a funny word. “No one ever snuck in some alcohol or whatever?”

Thoughts running at a snail’s pace, she has to seriously rack her brain to think if one of the Hermes’ kids ever brought in any illicit substances. Soda, minor monsters, the most powerful weapon ever created--but not any alcohol or marijuana. She thinks. “Our camp director was really strict about alcohol.”

“Lame,” says Masako.

“I mean, he was in recovery,” says Annabeth, her go-to story about Mr. D, just in case anyone ever asks. “It was a whole thing. He couldn’t have it, so we couldn’t have it.” 

“Not lame,” she amends.

“Okay, I think,” she says, a memory appearing out of the fog, after Gaea, after all that nonsense, “I think my co-counselor Katie made some joints out of bay leaves once.” 

The younger kids had gone to bed, sent off with a healthy dose of Clovis’ dream magic to ward away any nightmares, but the older campers had stayed up, huddled around the central brazier into the wee hours of the morning. Still so exhausted she could barely see straight, falling asleep on top of Percy, he had hauled her away to bed, but not before he had declined something for the both of them, something small and white and made to be smoked.

“You can get high off of bay leaves?” Sofia asks. 

Annabeth nods. “That’s how the… the fucking…” the word was on the tip of her tongue. The thing that Rachel did. But long ago. Oracle! “The Oracle, she got high, in ancient Greece. With bay leaves. She’d smoke them and receive prophecy.”

Jordan lifts her head. “Cool. You got ancient Greek high.”

Annabeth nearly says something about Olympus, or maybe Blackjack, an amazing joke about being high and Greek just on the tip of her tongue, but she has just enough self control not to. “No, I was tired. Percy and I went to bed.” 

“Laaaaaaaaame,” says Masako.

It’s just good-natured ribbing. And they’re all high as kites. But Annabeth still frowns. “I’m not lame.”

“You’re amazing, don’t get me wrong,” Masako says, “but you are so lame. You’ve never gotten high before, you’re probably going to marry your first boyfriend… you are so vanilla.”

“And we love that about you!” Sofia jumps in.

Annabeth can’t feel bad right now, but she can feel a little lost. “But I love Percy,” she says. “Why wouldn’t I marry him?”

Percy is perfect. He’s handsome and kind and powerful and funny and brave and handsome. He’s more than anyone could hope for. And he loves her. 

“You’re really going to marry him?” Jordan asks. “Like, for real?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, but he says he can’t propose before he finds the perfect ring. He promised he wouldn’t make me wait too long. I don’t want to have Chase on my diploma.” 

“Oh my god,” Masako giggles, “you’re even more vanilla than I thought.” 

“The dick can’t be that good,” Jordan muses, examining a particularly long blade of grass. 

It is, but they don’t need to know that. 

Sofia snorts. “It is?”

Oh, fuck. Annabeth giggles. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Tell us!” Masako sits bolt upright, eyes wide. “Tell us everything!”

She slams her hands over her face. “Noooo,” she laughs, curling in on herself further. “I can’t.”

All at once, they scream, like the three Erinyes swooping down onto an unsuspecting prey. Or the Cabin Ten campers when someone gets too close with any stray ketchup.

“Spill!” they shriek. “Spill!”

No one has ever demanded to know the details of her sex life before. Even at camp, she and Percy are given a wide berth. Something about walking through Tartartus with your partner apparently takes your sex life from giggle-worthy to kind of intimidating. That’s the biggest difference between her demigod friends and her mortal friends, Annabeth is finding. Other than that, they’re pretty much exactly the same. “What do you want to know?” she asks, naively.

The floodgates open.

“When did you guys first do it?”

“Where?”

“How was it?”

“What does he like?”

“His abs though--”

“Is he good at head?”

“Favorite position!”

“His dick is big, I just know it--”

Over and over, overlapping, a whirlwind of questions, she can’t process them nearly as fast as they are coming--all she can do is laugh, breathless and airy, until they all dissolve into giggles once again.

She’s getting a little tired of this constant laughing.

Even that thought makes her start all over again.

“Okay,” she gasps, “okay, I can’t--I can’t answer all of those.”

Jordan waves her arms. “Me first! First time!”

Annabeth shrugs. “Um, it was… the weekend of Thanksgiving, a few months after we started dating. His parents were at a mixer for their writing group, and I was staying with them during my school break.” What else is she supposed to say? That they’d been talking about it for weeks? That Annabeth had been so excited she’d forgotten to even ask him about condoms? That Percy had been so concerned with making sure he got her off and didn’t hurt her that he’d spent almost an hour fingering her? 

They squeal in unison. “His parents’ house!” Sofia gasps, hands on her face. “So scandalous! How was it?”

Annabeth blushes. “Amazing.” 

And it had been, as amazing as a first time can be. Any person could only ever dream of having a partner as attentive and respectful as Percy for their first time.

“If he’s the only one you’ve ever had, how do you know it was that good?” Jordan asks. “I thought my first boyfriend was good, too, right up until I started dating Julie.” 

“I think three consecutive orgasms counts as being good,” Annabeth drawls.

Once again, the screaming.

“Three?” shrieks Masako.

“Three.”

“Your first time?!”

“He was really really really concerned I wouldn’t get off!” 

Sofia collapses on top of her, hands scrabbling for her shoulders, and always, always giggling. “You marry that boy--you marry him right now!”

“I’m trying!”

“And it’s still good?” Masako’s eyes are as wide as saucers.

Normally, she might be a little reluctant to share--even with Piper. The eighth of this edible, though, is certainly helping grease the wheels of conversation. “It’s always good.”

Jordan groans, throwing a handful of grass in her face. “Bullshit.”

“Always?”

She frowns, really thinking about it, trying to remember a time it was bad. It’s surprisingly really hard. “Sometimes we don’t have time for three orgasms.” 

“How often do you fake it?”

“What do you mean?” Annabeth asks Masako.

“You know… fake it.”

“Why would I fake it? If I fake it, he won’t know I haven’t come yet.” She laughs, more than a giggle but less than a guffaw. It’s so silly. Whoever thought of faking an orgasm?  “How would I even do that?” 

“You’ve never faked it?” Sofia is incredulous, her jaw hanging open. 

Annabeth sits up, flailing a little, reaching forward to touch her toes. Just because. “Of course not. Do people actually do that?”

“Sure,” says Masako. “Sometimes.”

“Why?” 

“I hate you,” Jordan moans, “I hate you so much, you and your stupid sex god boyfriend who makes love to you every night like you’re in some trashy period drama with the…” Her hands come up, weakly making a wavy shape in the air. “The things. You know.”

Masako tilts her head. “Hoop skirts?”

Sofia pitches forward, hands coming flat on the grass. “Okay, Annabeth. Prove to us you’re not vanilla. Craziest place you’ve ever done it.”

All three girls lean in, now, expectant, hungry.

Annabeth frowns.

Where was the craziest place they had done it?

They’d done it a lot in the last few years. His apartment in the city, Cabin Three, her boarding school room… 

Oh. Right.

She flushes.

They lean in even closer.

Well, she can’t tell them about the time they had sex in the temple of Neptune in New Rome, but she can tell them about--“One time, at camp,” she mumbles, playing with a shoelace, “we… Percy is in charge of the boathouse, because--because he’s so good at sailing, you know? So, one day, we both passed our chores off to a couple other counselors, then he took out one of the canoes, rowed us out into the middle of the lake, and…” She glances up, bashful.

Cue the screaming. 

Annabeth covers her face with her arms, falling back down onto the quad.

“At your summer camp!” Masako cries, gleeful. 

“My word!” Playfully kicking her ankle, Jordan pretends to fan herself, like Hazel still does sometimes when she’s startled by something really risque. “Imagine if the children had seen you!”

The children hadn’t seen them, but the naiads definitely had--and had tried to capsize them for their trouble. She hadn’t been able to do any lake-related activities for a week without getting soaked by a stray wave which, coincidentally, managed to avoid hitting everyone else.

“What else?” Sofia asks, practically vibrating. “Craziest kink!”

“Um…” She frowns, screwing up her face so she thinks extra hard. Have they… done anything kinky? They have sex a lot, yeah, and not always in their bedrooms, but other than that… “I… don’t… know…”

Sex with Percy is always amazing--that’s not a lie. But, maybe it’s gotten a little… same-y.

“Well, well, well.” Sofia slow-claps it out, her rings clinking together. “I think she’s ready for the big leagues, don’t you, girls?” 

Through her fingers, Annabeth glances at her. “What do you mean?”

“Bondage.”

“Bondage?” She blinks. “Like, tying each other up?”

Annabeth doesn’t think she’s ever been tied up before. Well, except for the time she wanted to hear the Sirens, but Percy had left her with her knife, so that didn’t really count. 

“Last time I met up with Skylar, we went back to his, and he has this old-timey bed frame, with the slats, right? So I took the belt from my dress, and--”

“Okay, okay,” Annabeth cuts in, covering her face again. “I get the point.”

Maybe her friends have a point. Maybe she is a little vanilla.

Sofia pats her knee. “Next time you guys have sex--”

“So, in like, three hours,” Jordan snorts.

“--take a scarf or a tie or whatever and tie his hands to the headboard. Trust me, he will flip. Out.”

Annabeth nods, taking mental notes. “Hands to the headboard. Got it.” She’s not sure if he even has any ties, but she’s resourceful. She can cobble something together. “And… then what?”

Sofia shrugs. “Kiss him. Do a striptease. Leave him there. I dunno. Whatever you want.”

Masako scrambles to her feet, windmilling to keep her balance. “The Bon Me truck just pulled up,” she gasps, “and I am starving.”

And thus, that particular conversation is over, thanks to the munchies.

***

Truth be told, she kind of forgets it pretty much entirely. Most of that day is gone, the finer details swallowed up in a haze of heat waves and peanut sauce.

That is, until New Rome’s annual pre-Saturnalia mixer: dress code, lighter side of formal. Whatever that means. 

“Hey, babe?” Percy pokes his head in the bathroom, button-down half undone. “I need your eye for a second.”

She grunts around the bobby pin held between her teeth, sliding another one through some hitherto-unknown dimension to hold a curl in place. 

“What do you think, this tie with this jacket?” He holds the two of them together, the black and white Greek key pattern contrasting nicely against the navy blue fabric. “Or will that cause an incident?”

“Probably an incident,” she says, slowly, slipping the bobby pin from her mouth. Then, a thought poking at the back of her skull. “How long have you had that?”

He glances at it. “The tie? Paul gave it to me for graduation.”

“That was nice of him.”

“I’m pretty sure he got it from the Met gift shop, but yeah.” All smiles, he slides the jacket on, tie crumpled in his balled fist. “You’re right, no tie.”

She grunts, noncommittal, gaze sliding away as she tries to remember… something.

“You good?”

“...Yeah,” she says, eventually. “Just spaced out for a second.”

“Alright. You about ready to go?”

She glances at her hair in the mirror, the makeup on the counter. “Give me twenty.”

“Sure thing.” Then he goes out, a few moments of silence passing before she hears the sink turn on as he takes care of the dishes. 

How in Hades did she end up with the perfect man? Truly.

Percy continues to exude perfection at the party, despite the fact that he is clearly less than comfortable, not that she can blame him. Some of the older citizens of New Rome are a little less reserved with their opinions of the Greeks, Percy’s hand clenching around his glass of sparkling grape juice every time someone badmouths camp, their home, but they both relax as soon as they finish making the rounds of NRU’s board of trustees and other college officials, peeling away to find Frank and Reyna and the rest of their friends. 

Still, Annabeth can’t quite focus. 

“Hey.” Percy leans in, his hand against the small of her back, murmuring into her ear. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” Gods, his hand is so big and warm. All that time in the gym is paying off, too, the weedy, skinny teenager she fell in love with blossoming into a young man, broad shoulders and firm chest like a Phidian sculpture.

“You’re just kind of quiet tonight. Did you sleep okay?”

She blinks at him, thoughts coming back into focus. “Uh--yeah, I’m good. Just--”

“Spaced out for a second?” Making a face, he grins back at her, unrepentant. “You wanna ditch the party?”

“Do you?”

He looks around, eyeing Hylla Ramirez-Arellano as she loudly boasts about being Jeff Bezos’ findom. “A little.”

Well, Annabeth is happy to be his excuse. 

Citing a (completely fake) headache, they make their graceful exit, walking back to their apartment in the cool California night, hand in hand, Percy carrying her heels as she walks barefoot down the sidewalks. 

It’s a quiet night. Percy squeezes her hand every few steps, and she squeezes back, lifting her face to the clear night sky, thoughts she can’t catch slipping through the cracks like wisps of clouds across the moon. But that’s okay. She’s pretty sure they’re good thoughts.

“You sure you’re alright?” Percy asks as they get home, closing the door behind them. “You've been kind of out of it all night.”

Kissing him on the cheek, she shrugs out of her nice coat, slipping it up on their makeshift coat rack, fashioned from a piece of driftwood that had nearly conked Percy on the head the first time they ever went down to the beach. “I’m fine, Percy, promise. Just kind of a bleh day, you know? Nothing a few cuddles and a movie won’t fix.”

At that, he beams, dropping Annabeth’s shoes on the floor. “I’ll get the popcorn!”

"Let me shower first," Annabeth says. Hopefully a shower will clear her head a little.

It doesn't.

Changing into her pajamas, she ruffles her curls with her microfiber towel, frowning as she comes out of the bathroom. Percy's good habits are rubbing off on her; she's left a lot of crap lying around that needs picking up. Collecting stray bobby pins from the vanity, a curling iron from the top of the dresser, and an alternate dress option from where she had left it on the bed, she putters about the room, tidying as she goes, when she stops. Percy's tie lays crumbled at the head of the bed where he had tossed it earlier.

She picks it up, running it between her fingers. It's not exactly silk, but it's still a decently strong weave, machine-made for mass production, inoffensively soft. Annabeth wraps it around her finger, pulling tight, and a flash of heat rushes through her, like a wave off the lava climbing wall. 

“So there’s this guy on Youtube who makes popcorn with Lao Gan Ma spicy chili crisp, and it sounded absolutely amazing,” says Percy, walking into their room, popcorn bowl in hand. Annabeth whips around, the tie crumpled in her fist. “I tried to keep the spice level down, but let me know if it’s too much and I can make another one.”

Annabeth blinks, momentarily uncomprehending. “Uh--sure! Sounds good.”

“Did you pick a movie while you were in the shower?”

“Um…” Was she supposed to? “Your choice.”

“The Sopranos okay?” he asks, climbing onto their bed, twisting around to grab his laptop from the side table. His shirt rides up a little, a sliver of waist and hip peeking out at her.

“Sure.” She likes The Sopranos. It’s a little soapy, but usually she has no problem following along. 

Keyword being usually.

She’s tucked herself into Percy’s side the way she usually does, her head against his, his arm around her shoulders, his thumb ghost along the bare skin of her bicep. He smells really good today, sea salt and cinnamon and chili oil, a testament to his busy day in the kitchen. He’s so warm, always, six feet of dense, packed muscle practically radiating heat. Annabeth could fall asleep right there. She often does. 

Shifting for the sixth time in what must be five minutes, she snuggles into his chest, curling and uncurling her toes. There’s no denying it--she can feel herself getting hotter, a flame in her center, soft and pulsing, reaching every part of her.

How she wishes she could blame it on The Sopranos.

Annabeth presses her nose into his neck, breathing him in, laying a kiss under his ear. Then another on his jaw. And another at the corner of his lips. And one on his mouth, tilting him towards her for better access. He goes, easily, without resistance. 

At some point, the popcorn bowl is moved. 

Then, Percy shuts his laptop closed during Livia’s wake. 

“Hey,” Annabeth murmurs into his mouth, draped over him like some kind of blanket. “I wanna try something.”

He hums, kissing her again. “Okay?”

She reaches behind him, beneath the pillow. She’s not sure why she had stashed it there, rather than hanging it back up in the closet, but she pulls out the tie, holding Percy’s gaze without breaking. “I thought,” she breathes, pressing her chest against him, incentivizing, “you know... if you want to."

His eyes darken, even as his face tries to give nothing away. "You wanna tie me up?"

Lip between her teeth, she nods.

Slowly, controlled, he blows his breath out, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. "You sure?" he asks, desire rumbling in his chest.

She frowns. "Yeah." Does he not want to?

"Okay," he says, twisting a curl around his finger. "Just want to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

Or maybe worse, does he think she can’t? “Okay.”

Straightening up, she straddles him. He lifts his arms obediently, never breaking eye contact, bracing them against their headboard. It’s not really conducive for this sort of thing, but she threads the tie through the wooden slats easily enough, tying his wrists together, leaning in closer than she needs to so that her chest pushes up against his face.

There. All tied up and ready to go.

She leans back on her knees, taking in the whole pretty picture.

Rhythmically, subconsciously, Percy tests the strength of the bonds, flexing the muscles in his arms. His mouth hangs open, his hips shifting beneath her as he tries to get comfortable, cock hard through his sweatpants.

Annabeth scrambles off him, and he tries to follow, chest jerking as the tie holds him back. He grunts, surprised, shoulders straining, before he falls back, defeated, huffing angrily, a low growl which connects to the pit of her stomach. “Nice try, Percy,” she smirks, sauntering around to the foot of the bed, keenly aware of his gaze as it tracks her, hands on her hips. “It’s my show tonight.”

“Your show, huh?” He settles back against the headboard, wine-dark gaze boring into her. “By all means, then. Give me a show.”

She glares, grinding her teeth. Doesn’t he know she’s calling the shots right now? 

Well, fine. If he wants a show, he’ll get a show. 

Annabeth is… not a particularly graceful person normally, but on the battlefield, she knows she shines. Give her a knife and an enemy, and she can put the greatest dancers to shame. Well, in this case, Percy is the enemy, and… her clothes… are the knife. Or something like that. It makes more sense in her head.

Slowly, she grasps the hem of her sleep shirt, peeling it up over her chest, the fabric blocking her vision for a brief moment as she slips it over her head. When Percy comes back into view, his eyes have darkened just that much more, almost straining with the effort not to stare at her chest, even as it’s presented for his explicit viewing pleasure.

Annabeth does not have much in the way of breasts--never has. It doesn’t seem to bother him, which is nice. Besides, Percy is more of a leg man, as he has expressed several times. So, legs next. 

Her sleep shorts aren’t very sexy, old, threadbare things which had once been yoga pants. When she started gaining a little more weight, and the pants could no longer reach her ankles, she had cut them in a fit of impulsivity, stretching the fabric and sewing herself a new hem, giving her skin more room to breathe. And giving Percy more space to slip his fingers up, the horny bastard. 

She turns around, lamenting the loss, as she so wanted to see his face as she bends over, sticking out her ass, slowly slipping the waistband down. From behind, she hears a faint pickup in breathing. 

Over her ass, down her thighs and her knees. She thinks she hears a groan, muffled behind a bitten lip. She lifts up one foot, then the other, leaving the shorts in a puddle by her feet. Clad only in her panties now--black, lacy, but not due to any pre-planning on her part, unless you count the laundry just about overflowing in the closet hamper--she straightens back up, her hands going to her hair, running her fingers through it in some kind of approximation of sexy.

She turns around, and is greeted with his look of naked longing, his throat working as he swallows, full lower lip firmly in his teeth. His fists are clenched, the muscles of his forearms big and bulging, his heels pushing into the mattress.

She takes a step forward, her fingers teasing the edge of her panties. She won’t take them off, not yet, just torment him a little, lifting the fabric and letting it slap back down to her skin, then she’ll climb back on top of him, hump him through his sweatpants until he’s begging--

Annabeth catches her foot on the fabric puddle. Tripping, she throws out her hands, aiming to catch herself on the decorative chest they keep at the foot of their bed, her weak ankle buckling as it tries to keep her steady--then she jams her toe into the metal strut. Hard.

“Mother fucker!”

She goes down.

“Annabeth!”

Through the white hot haze of pain, she can barely see, but she can certainly feel it as a pair of strong arms picks her up from the floor, laying her on the bed, a big hand taking her weaker foot, fingers delicately prodding the offending toe, skimming over the sensitive skin. “Percy?” she moans, seeing stars. “What--”

“Nothing feels sprained,” he murmurs, kissing her ankle. “Looks like you just slammed it. Let me get some ice.” And he leaves her for a moment.

Wasn’t he tied up a minute ago?

The bed dips beside her as Percy takes her foot again, carefully laying one of their smaller ice packs across the throbbing flesh. Her vision clears, blink by blink, and as his concerned but fond face slowly comes into focus, she also spies something trailing from his wrist--a strip of black and white fabric. 

His tie. Snapped in half. Still attached to him. “Did you…?” she trails off.

He flicks his eyes down to his wrist, and flushes, lightly. “Oh. I, uh, guess I did. I didn’t even notice.”

Annabeth’s body grows hot in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with shame. 

“Anyway,” he coughs, dry and useless. “Um, maybe we should call it a night?”

Hiding her face in her arms, she nods. 

***

They try again the next week.

While dictating her notes via speech-to-text, Annabeth had spent the last couple of days occupied with making her own rope, stronger and softer than the ones she had seen in her Incognito Mode searches while doing her business in the bathroom. BDSM rope is surprisingly really expensive, especially the less abrasive stuff, but more than that, she feels kind of… well, it’s weird, the idea of spending money on bondage shit when they’d only tried it once, and not very successfully at that. Like, how about they make sure they actually like it first, says the little Percy in her head who occasionally keeps her from making too many impulse purchases, and then they can upgrade their gear? 

Also, she’s confident her stuff is on par with the really expensive gear anyway. Plus, it’s blue!

And when she dangles it in front of his face, straddling him once again as she slides her wet pussy over his briefs, practically soaking them, he lifts his arms again, a quiet acquiescence, even as his jaw clenches in the barest hint of displeasure. 

Every day Percy does something new to make her fall in love with him. That he trusts her so much to let her tie him up, immobilize him, take away his control like this, even though he’s so clearly hesitant about the whole thing, that’s just today’s thing. She kisses him, soft and sweet, over and over, and he responds in kind, straining his neck to meet her. “You good?��� she asks, a whisper into the space between them, and he nods. “It’s not too tight?”

“It’s fine.” She feels more than sees as he flexes his arms again, testing the strength of her rope. 

“Good.” She kisses his nose. No way he’ll be able to break these. 

The second time is already going better than the first. Having divested herself of her clothes beforehand, there’s no danger of her tripping and injuring herself as she lines herself up and sinks down on him, shuddering at the angle as she slides him inside of her. She just sits there for a moment, rocking back and forth on his lap, enjoying the way he fills her nooks and crannies, brushing up against the sensitive skin, closing her eyes against the sensation as she lifts herself up, sliding back down, up and down and up and down and up and down. 

“Fuck, Annabeth,” he moans. “Oh, fuck.”

It’s good. As always. It’s so good. 

But… something is missing.

She squeezes around him, and he hisses, bucking beneath her.

Why isn’t he touching her?

He groans, frustrated, his head making a muffled thump as it drops on the pillow.

Oh. Right.

Usually right about now he’ll go for her tits, his big hands covering them completely, deft fingers pinching and twisting her nipples in the most perfect way, so she decides to show him what he’s missing, bringing her own hands up to her chest, rolling her thumbs over her nipples, smiling as he practically growls. Unfortunately for her, for whatever sick reason, she’s not nearly as good at this as he is, her touches not really doing enough for her. And after a few minutes or so, Percy takes notice.

“Oh gods, Annabeth,” he pants, pulling his legs up behind her, the force almost tilting her forward, and she throws out her hands to catch herself, his abs tensing beneath her as she lands on them, her chest right up against his face. Quick as anything, he lifts his head up, mouth headed for her left nipple before she manages to pull herself back.

She narrows her eyes, falling back on his lap even more heavily, pushing a grunt out of him. “Nice try.”

He only grins back, shark-like, eyes dancing. “Had to give it a shot.”

Of course he did. Percy treats rules like [clever metaphor], easily broken and discarded. And now Annabeth has to punish him. 

Shit.

What are you supposed to do for punishment again? 

Her mind draws a blank.

Percy stares up at her, waiting, brow raised in challenge.

To stall for time, she squeezes around him.

She’d watched a handful of pornos for research, and in a lot of them, the dominant would strike their partner. Percy’s tough, a bit of an adrenaline junkie, and he likes his rough-housing with Clarisse and Frank and the war kids, so he’d probably like that, too, right? If someone did that to her, Annabeth would probably like it.

So she raises her hand, and she brings it down on his soft, untensed, unprepared tummy. Hard.

He jumps so high that he actually manages to buck her off. “OW!”

“Percy!” she cries, scrambling back over to him. “Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!”

“The hell was that for!” he gasps, curling in on himself as best he can with his arms still tied above his head.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gentles, almost frantic, hands hovering over his body. His belly is rapidly turning pink, the outline of her hand stark on his skin, practically radiating heat. “I just--I mean I thought--fuck, I am so sorry!”

He groans in response, eyes squeezed shut. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck--”Let--let me get you some ice, or--” she stammers, sliding off the bed.

“Can you at least untie me first?” Percy wheezes. 

“Oh my gods, yeah, hold on.” Despite her shaking fingers, the knot comes undone easily, practically falling apart, and Percy curls himself into a ball, forehead touching his knees.

Returning with an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel, she kisses his shoulder in apology, slipping it between the taut, tight bends of his body. 

He is in real, actual pain. Fuck. “I am so, so sorry,” she says again, her voice wobbling.

Squinting up at her, he tries for a reassuring smile, but falls far, far short, a pained grimace painted across his face. “It’s okay,” he rasps. 

It’s really not, but saying that isn’t going to be so helpful right now. 

Instead, she lies down next to him, resting her hand on his arm, gently stroking back and forth in hopes that it might distract him a little. She knows that whenever her ankle or her shoulder act up, all she wants is Percy’s hands on her, repetitive and soothing. Hopefully she can give back a little of the comfort that he gives her.

After a while, he starts to uncurl. “Goddamn,” he moans, still clutching the ice pack to his stomach. “Remind me never to badmouth the Yankees again.”

She forces out a chuckle for his sake, ducking her head against his. “How is it? One to ten.”

Hissing, he straightens out a little more. “Probably a four,” he says, “but a really spicy four.”

“Percy, I am so--”

“It’s okay.” He knocks his head against her chin. “Maybe just warn me next time?”

“Yeah,” she says, uneasy. Next time is not looking so likely. “Here.” 

Slowly, she helps him into a sitting position, applying extra pressure on his stomach, her hand on top of his. They breathe together, letting the sting fade away until Percy drops his head on hers. 

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“How--” she snorts, a little wet. “I’m fine, Percy.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry about hitting you,” she says. She can’t help but look down at his stomach, pinkness peeking above the ice pack, at his dick, well and truly flaccid. “That was… not my best idea.”

“Can I ask you something?” Tearing her gaze away, she turns back to Percy. “Why are you pushing for this so hard?”

She blinks, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Just, you’ve never really expressed an interest in kinky stuff before.” He takes her hand, cold from the ice pack, rubbing his thumb against hers, sweet and intimate. 

“Yeah, well,” she cuddles into Percy a little harder, curving her body around his shoulder. “Some of the girls at Berklee were teasing me about being a little vanilla.” None of it was mean-spirited or anything, but it had stayed with her for a while after it had resurfaced that night. Annabeth Chase, despite having run away from home at the age of seven, was a square, a teetotaler, unadventurous, the kind of woman who spent her Friday nights playing board games with a woman who typified 1930s values. Annabeth Chase, after her short, entirely too eventful life, was going to settle down, and marry the first boy she ever kissed.

It had struck a nerve.

“Being vanilla isn’t a bad thing,” he says, something like concern lacing his voice. “But, are you… not satisfied? With the physical stuff?” The unspoken ‘with me’ hangs between them, and Annabeth pulls back, looking him in the eye.

“Percy.” 

“Mm?”

Reaching up, she kisses him. “Of course not. I could never not be satisfied.”

Something in him eases, almost imperceptible if she didn’t know him as well as she does. “So…”

Shrugging, she lays her head back down on his shoulder. “I dunno. It’s just--like, I’m pretty sure you’re going to be the only person I ever sleep with--”

“Pretty sure?”

She nudges him with her foot, and he laughs, hissing a little as it jostles his stomach. “You know what I mean. I just don’t want to miss out on anything, is all.”

“Like what?”

“Like--” she gestures to the rope, lying forgotten, tangled up in the sheets. “Stuff like that. Kinky stuff.”

“Okay,” he says, slowly. At least he doesn’t think she’s crazy. That’s always nice. “I guess I’m just wondering if you’re actually into bondage and stuff or if we’re just… you know, trying it out.”

Draping a leg over him, knees pressed together, she shrugs. “It sounded pretty fun,” she mumbles into his arm. “You know. Tying you up.”

She feels him swallow, jaw working as he chooses his next words carefully. “Tying me up,” he asks, “or tying you up?”

That… gives her pause. 

“Maybe…” He turns his face towards her, nose in her hair. “We could swap?”

She frowns. “Swap?”

“If you want, I mean,” he says, quickly. “If you’re not--I would never make you do something you didn’t want to, obviously, but, I mean… if you wanted to try?”

Annabeth, for lack of anything to say, rubs her toes against his calf, comforting and grounding.

Does she want to be tied up?

Her first instinct is to refuse, obviously. She’s a warrior. Immobilization is death. And what if a monster attacks? She has to be ready for anything. That was the promise of Athena’s progeny, that they were eternally poised and ready to respond to any problem or threat.

And yet… 

The summer she turned thirteen, she had decided that she was strong enough to hear the siren’s song in the sea of monsters. At her request, Percy had tied her to the mast so she wouldn’t be able to jump in and swim to her death. He had forgotten to take her knife, and when she had, inevitably, fallen prey to their song and cannonballed right into danger, he had jumped in after her, holding her back until she had been able to pull herself out of the magic spell. 

It had been humiliating, and humbling. She hadn’t even begun to realize that she liked Percy as more than a friend at that point. But, years later, the clearest memory she has of that day is not how her pride had reared its ugly head, but instead just how safe she had felt in Percy’s arms, at the bottom of the ocean.

Here, in New Rome, in their apartment, with Percy… Well, what’s the worst that could happen? “Sure,” she says, perhaps a little more confident than she actually feels. 

“Sure?”

“Sure. Why not?” Looking up at him, she searches his gaze for any hesitation or fear, and finds none, and that, more than anything else, settles her. “I’m game.”

He looks for the same in her, and he seems to like what he finds, because he cracks a grin, laying a soft kiss on her lips.

Gingerly, still mindful of his stomach, he reaches over to grab the discarded rope. Taking her hands in his free one, he loops it around her wrists, tucking the ends into itself, tight but not constricting. Comfortable. 

Her breath catches in her throat. 

“You good?”

Nodding, she flexes her wrists outward, just to feel the tension--and she sighs, a breathy moan slipping out of her without her permission.

They freeze.

Annabeth slams her eyes shut, praying he didn’t hear her.

“...Okay then,” says Percy. 

Gods, his shit-eating grin is practically audible. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He leans in, kissing her ear. “Did you just try to tell me what to do?”

She shivers beneath his warm breath. “I…” She is suddenly full of apologies and excuses bubbling up out of nowhere.

Percy hums. “You what?” Slowly, agonizingly, he slides his hand down the length of her body, ending on her tight, just above her knee. He squeezes, featherlight, and she shivers.

“Um,” she says, watching his hand creep higher, his fingers dipping between her legs. “I…”

Then he stops. He stops, that big hand still wedged halfway to her vagina.

“Are--” she stutters, almost yelping as he kisses the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, teeth scraping over the skin. “Are you going to finish?”

“Dunno. Was thinking about it. But maybe I won’t. Maybe,” he chuckles, directly into her ear, his nose pressing against her cheek. His other arm comes around, slipping beneath her bicep, fingers finding her nipple like it’s a damn beacon, and he pinches it, smiling into her skin as she jumps, grunts, and flushes. She wants to touch him so badly, but the angle of her arms is so weird and she’s kind of on top of him, and she can’t reach his cock or his hair or--“Maybe I’ll just get you worked up, and then I’ll go to sleep.”

What--but--he can’t--“I--you--”

“Say you’re sorry,” he teases, pressing his cheek to her head, “and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Sorry for what?! She almost snaps. Percy’s hand between her legs plays just at the edge of her sensitive spots, teasing with soft touches, driving her crazy. “I’m--I’m sorry, Percy,” she pants, squirming. Maybe if she shimmies down, his hand will move up--

But he won’t be moved. “Sorry for what?”

“For--” he digs a nail into her thigh, a sharp, sweet bite of sensation, like a campfire ember accidentally landing on your skin, bright and pulsing. Fuck, what is she apologizing for? “For hurting you earlier.”

Shaking his head, he chuckles again, moving his hand further away. No! “Close,” he mumbles, “but no cigar--”

Oh! “For telling you what to do!” she blurts. “I’m sorry for telling you what to do!”

He bites her earlobe. His fingers slide up to her pussy, stroking her labia as they open up to him. “There we go.”

And as he jerks her off, bringing her to the finish with the kind of efficiency and skill that only comes after ten thousand hours, he kisses her, wet and hot, mouth insistent, taking her lip between his teeth, and he mumbles: “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

She breaks, crying into his mouth. 

After a while, he slides his fingers out, giving her one final pass on her clit, and she shudders, whining. “Sorry,” he mumbles, warm. “You good?”

Her tongue heavy in her mouth, all she can do is nod, panting. 

But when he slides his other arm out, making to untie her--”Don’t,” she mumbles, pulling back. 

He starts. “Don’t?”

“Don’t.” Turning into him, she snuggles against him as deeply as she could, her bound hands only making it a little bit awkward, though they do come to rest on his stomach, about the perfect distance for her to reach down and take care of him. “Your turn?”

But he just shakes his head, slinging a leg over hers. “Still a little sore,” he admits, not quite meeting her gaze.

She drops her head onto his chest, relishing in the warm, steady heartbeat beneath her ear. “Sorry.”

“You can make it up to me later,” he says, taking her hands in his, thumb tracing along the edge of the rope. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

Can we get some Dom!Jeff Hardy hcs up in here pls 👀

Whew. Jesus lord. I went to sleep and I wake up to this, outing my Jeff fantasies. And I deeeeply thank you for it bc.. Fuck yeah. I approve 10000 percent. Anything that lets me talk about Jeff Hardy is a win for me so I LOVE YOU FOR THIS HOLY SHIT!

WARNINGS 

18+ only, obvs. Anyone not legally able to buy smokes or booze, gtfo. Go outside and play. This is not for your eyes, minors. Beyond that, definitely a huge dom/sub cw. Maybe mentions of light choking, praise kink... Spanking. Orgasm denial. Mentions of toys. Possibly even bondage. After these, it’s gonna get a little fuzzy bc I’m gonna go way into my mind for this one and I’m probs gonna black out again. So.. 

TAG SQUAD

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[ tag list doc - masterlist - send me more. these are fun. but read this first.]

┎ You actually discovered the whole other side of Jeff Hardy by happy mistake. There are certain things you can do... say.. that’ll flip the switch and apparently, one of them is addressing him as daddy. You did it in sarcasm. It was a stupid little argument about something insignificant, really, but the look in those jade colored eyes when you did it...

-- He was towering over you, your back met the wall softly. He reached out, tucking long fingers beneath your chin and making you look at him as he chuckled quietly. “Say it again, darlin. Call me what you just called me.”

-- Naturally.. You were bold enough to do it again. Then you felt him getting hard through the baggy pair of paint stained sweats he was wearing. That hand against the side of your face lowered, settled right over your cunt, squeezing a little. “That can be arranged, darlin.”

-- You’d been kind of vaguely considering the idea of that whole element in your relationship for a while because there were just certain things he did that made you curious.. Made you crave the idea of finding out just what kind of dom he’d be. The fact that he was always such a gentleman and he didn’t seem to actually... Mention being into it. That’s what stopped you from dropping hints. But here he was, laying it in your lap.

┎ Okay, you have an idea of how it started, now... Let me try to get into what happens between you two. Safe words are a MUST. And if he even thinks you’re experiencing a mood drop or you’re checking out while you’re in the midst of things, he puts it all to a grinding halt because his number one priority is you. And if something he’s doing is messing with you / could hurt you / is making your mood bottom out and making you retreat into your own quiet headspace, he’s amazing at picking up on it and stopping it. Because he’d rather die than hurt you.

-- Not that into spanking either, but he will do it because he KNOWS you want it sometimes. He’s never very hard though. Always jsut enough to leave your ass lightly tinted read for an hour or two after.

┎ King of aftercare, I mean... GODDAMN. Always there to cuddle you softly, soft kisses against your skin, gentle touches. Runs you warm baths and gets in the tub behind you, washing and playing with your hair. 

┎ the ‘collar’ he got you was not so much as a kinky thing as it was a sentimental one. It was a shooting star necklace because he’s forever telling you that he wished for you on a shooting star a long time ago... Back when his life was at it’s roughest. He’s not... really big into the whole act of collaring itself 

-- that being said, he is very very territorial. If you ever just want to get him into dom mode real quick? Let another man hit on you and you even SEEM remotely interested, even if you’re not. He’s behind you in an instant, his hands all over you, his lips against your neck and that smooth as fucking honey accent drawling against the shell of your ear, “Now I know you’re not tryin to stir daddy up, baby girl. I know you’re not.”

-- oh, you most certainly are. because there’s just something so fucking HOT about the way he gets when he’s showing you exactly where you belong. Clothes get ripped. Bodies covered in paint on occasion. Paint handprints around your throat and on your ass and thighs. He actually fucked you up against a canvas once and went to have it framed after. Hangs over your bed now. He wanted to put it in the living room but... there’s already other ‘canvases’ decking the walls in there.

┎ When he’s on the road and you’re at home, the bluetooth vibrator comes into play. And you have such a goddamn hard time NOT cumming until he lets you at the end of the day. When he’s not sending you these filthy and tender erotic poems he writes on the fly, he’s sending you pictures of his dick strained against his wrestling gear or just his dick in general.. Or videos of him, jerking it. That mischief filled chuckle when he cums because he KNOWS full well that the rules to this kind of play are that you CANNOT. CANNOT. cum until he video calls that night. To watch you. He likes to watch your juices drip slowly after you’ve gotten an orgasm. He usually makes you taste yourself too. Because he can’t at the moment. Gets him all sorts of hot when he’s watching you slip your fingers between your lips and lick.

┎ He’s tied you up before and used ice cubes to go down on you. Licked whipped cream off your body and ate your pussy until you were shaking and trying to squirm against the ties, begging to get off.

┎ BREEDING KINK HOLY SHIT. Will push whatever leaks out after he’s done taking you over and over right back in. His favorite choice of dirty phrase is to tell you exactly how full he’s going to fill you too. In a low growl... against your ear.

┎ Has a thing for erotic asphyxiation, but he is very very careful about it with you. He knows it’s not one of your favorite things, but that you’ll do it for him if he asks / makes you. But he never makes you do it to a point where you’re uncomfortable. Safety is sexy, kids.

┎ Has a giving inclined praise kink. Always telling you how good you feel. Always reassuring you. Very gentle. Passionate.

┎ absolutely fucking loves the vibrating cock ring you got for him during dirty santa exchange one year. it gets used a LOT. 

┎ bought you one of those DIY dildo molds kits and now it’s honestly your favorite toy that you own, because it feels close enough to him when he’s not there that it does help to fully immerse in your dirty little fantasies. 

┎  Honestly, straight up spoils you as a dom and as a SO. You want for NOTHING. LITERALLY NOTHING. The sheer mind blowing amazing sex is only a part of what you get with this guy. Because trust me. HE KNOWS SOME TRICKS.

[searchforthescars]

I actually dare you so hard to write an IT fic bc that shit was made for Siken

Sorry for sleeping on this so long anon - I’ve been in Editing Hell w my own manuscript but I needed to shake the cobwebs off today so dashed this off real quick

AU in which Richie comes out and gets to become the chaotic bisexual we all know he is and also the losers figure it out too I guess? idk I don’t actually know what else this is so just,,,,enjoy, I guess? 

CW for internalized bi/homophobia. Poem snippets from You are Jeff and A Primer for the Small Weird Loves.

The boy in the red trunks is holding your head underwaterbecause he is trying to kill you,and you deserve it, you do, and you know this,and you are ready to die in this swimming poolbecause you wanted to touch his hands and lips and this meansyour life is over anyway.You're in eighth grade. You know these things.

You’re used to this panic by now. It doesn’t even faze you...much.

When you feel it next, it’s during the last swim of the year. It’s September, the day before school starts, and the water is cold enough to make Stan and Bill’s fair skin erupt in red splotches, and for your own to goosepimple up in an almost painful way.

Eddie is piggybacking you, legs wrapped around your waist, heels digging into your hips, stomach or wherever else he can grip to keep his balance. Eddie’s wearing those terrycloth red shorts he practically lived in all summer. His mom said he was outgrowing them, so Eddie retired him to the bin in his closet you know are reserved for clothes that are okay to get dirty.

“Richie, hold me up!” Eddie complains, scrabbling for purchase on your bony shoulders. You’ve shot up a good five inches in the past couple months, and no one hates it more than Eddie.

You hooks your arms around Eddie’s, and your heart drops at how close your hands are to Eddie’s thighs, those stupid red shorts riding way too far up for your liking. You can’t keep your eyes away from the contrast between Eddie’s tanned skin and your own sickly-pale color.

You lift your eyes when Bill coughs. You two lock eyes across the quarry. Bill’s clear blue ones are narrowed slightly, his head tilted. You okay? You can’t read minds, but he’s been reading Bill’s face for years.

You nod and let Eddie go with a splash, crowing when the smaller boy shrieks. Eddie springs upright and hauls you back and down by the shoulders, grappling you down to his knees and pushing your shoulders down, down, down until you’re underwater-

And your eyes are open, so he sees it all: the flat planes of your best friend’s stomach, his dexterous fingers and above it all, both in sight and importance, the eager brown of his wide eyes, his messy hair and gleeful smile.

You think, wildly, that you should probably just die now, accidentally, so Bowers and his friends wouldn’t even have a chance. A boy who loves boys in Derry is as good as dead, and you even more so if your friends, your only protection, ever found out. Would they forgive you this? Would they-

Your panic is interrupted when Eddie pulls you up by the arm. “You were just floating down there!” His voice is panicked. You wrap your arm around his shoulder and he sags into you. “I thought- I’m sorry, Rich, I-”

“I’m all good, Eds.” Eddie snorts at the nickname. “Just waiting for you to get enough of attempting to murder me.”

“Shut up, Richie.” His lips curl up. You wish you could touch them. Your thumb burns as if you already have. You duck underwater and swim away, fast, letting out the rest of your inhaled air in a long, low scream.

If It can hear you, you hope It knows there was never any danger of you being brave.

-----

You know how to ride a dirt bike, and you know how to dolong division,and you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unlesshe keeps his mouth shut, which is what youdidn't do,because you are weak and hollow and it doesn't matter anymore.

“What would you do if you liked someone you shouldn���t?”

Your feet skid on the grass, kicking some of it up as you stop your bike and look back to stare at Stan. “What? You found yourself a Gentile girl or something?”

Stan rolls his eyes, shoving messy curls out of his face. Bill noted once that both of your hair, while similar in texture, matched your personalities. Stan’s, while wildly curly, is tightly-coiled and forced into orderliness. Your dark strands are hopeless, a wild mess of waves and curls that no one can ever hope to tame.

“No, Richie.” He’s the same serious kid he was at fifteen than he was as a kid. You’re a little more serious now, too. High school does that to a guy, you suppose, and if you have a prayer of getting into UCLA and getting the hell out of Derry, taking school seriously had to be a priority. You’re not a fan of the seriousness bleeding into the rest of your life, but oh well.

“Then what?”

Stan looks around the Barrens furtively, as if someone’s listening. You roll your eyes. “Come on, Staniel.”

“Not here.” He sets off for the clubhouse, walking his bike when he can’t ride it. You two don’t speak again until you’re underground, the hatch closed. “I mean...what if you like someone everyone would hate you for liking?”

“Stan.” You kick off your shoes and settle into the hammock. “I don’t think your dad is going to care-”

“I think I like boys.”

Stan says it in a rush. His eyes are huge, owlish and afraid. Your heart sinks to the pit of my stomach and sits there.

Even Stanley is braver than you, whispers that voice in your head that sounds like that fucking psycho clown.

“Oh.”

Stan’s shoulders slump. “Is that all you have to say?”

You sit upright in the hammock. Shove your glasses up your nose. “I don’t... It doesn’t matter to me. You’re still my friend.”

Stan’s whole body relaxes, as if his strings have been cut. “Are you sure?”

“Am I- Stan. Come on. It’s going to take more than- Wait!” You lean forward. “Is it Mike? Please say it’s Mike, Eddie’s going to owe me so much money if its-”

“Fine! Yes, Trashmouth, it’s Mike! Happy?”

You whoop, falling back and swinging back and forth. “You’ve made me a rich man, Staniel!”

Stan flips you the bird. You flip him one back. Then, because you’re trying to not be a total asshole, you sit up again. “Thanks. For telling me, I mean.”

Stan gives you a small smile. “Thanks for not hating me.”

Your voice trembles when you speak again and you won’t, won’t, won’t think about why. “I don’t think any of the Losers could ever hate you.”

“Why are we hating someone?” Eddie asks, climbing carefully down the ladder. You obediently slide over when all five-foot-nine of him settles into the hammock beside you.

“We’re not,” Stan says. You smile at him over Eddie’s head.

“Oh. I thought someone was bullying Bill again.” Eddie takes off your glasses.

“HEY!”

“They’re poking my face and I want to nap,” Eddie says imperiously. You hold still as Eddie makes himself comfortable, forehead against your temple and chin on your shoulder. There’s a burning knot coiling low in your stomach. It’s nauseating. It’s thrilling. You never want to feel it again.

But you will. You’ll feel it tonight when you climb in Eddie’s window. You’ll feel it tomorrow when you walk to school with him and he pops open the first button of his shirt to reveal a small strip of collarbone and skin. You’ll feel it the next day and the next and then next. You might even die from it someday.

Could you ever do what Stan did? Throw out such a deep, dark secret into the world and hope it didn’t throw it back at you with enough force to bruise? Could you be that brave?

No. You’re not brave. You never have been. 

You time your breathing with Eddie’s. When you inhale, you breathe in coward. When you exhale, you breathe out secrets.

-----

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired.

“Richie?”

Eddie’s not looking at you. His head is leaning against the window of your car and he’s staring out at the dark night ahead of you. It’s summer in Derry, a dry heat and too-quiet nights to keep you company on the drive out to the Hanlon farm, where tents and a movie night await.

“Yeah?”

“I... I need to tell you something.”

Something about his tone strikes you. You pull over and put the car in park. “What’s wrong, Eds?”

He looks over at you, lips parted. His breath comes short. You think about reaching for the inhaler you started keeping in the glove compartment when you started driving. He hasn’t needed it in years, but you hang onto it anyway. Just in case. “I...”

He can’t say whatever it is. You wait. His eyes are impossibly wide, his shoulders heaving with his breaths. There’s color high in his cheeks. You wish, vaguely, like you do every time, that you could kiss him there. Or better, that you could shut off that urge entirely. That would be better.

“Eds.” Your voice is weirdly soft. You don’t even know if Eddie can hear you. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’ll love you no matter what.”

How many times have you told him you love him? He’s your brother, your best friend, your confidant. Of course you love him. Why wouldn’t you?

Not like that, though, you know it’s not like that, and it makes you dirty and wrong and terrible and-

“I- I love you.”

“I know.” You frown. “I love you too.”

You figure out what he meant a split second too late. His eyebrows knit together, and you understand, and you feel like you’re going to die, or maybe throw up all over this car because “oh. Oh. OH.”

“Forget it.” Eddie sounds miserable. He curls in on himself. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be sorry.” You unbuckle your seatbelt. Lean forward to touch his cheek. It fits so well in your hand. “Eds. Thank you for telling me.”

Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it. “Bill,” he says instead, pointing out your window. “Behind you.”

Bill is leaning against your car, balancing on Silver. “Are you c-coming or not?” he asks through the glass.

Your heart in your throat, you answer. “Yeah. We’re coming.”

Eddie bolts from the car as soon as you park, rounding the back of the farmhouse in search of Mike and Stan. Bill is waiting for you when you get up to the porch. 

“He t-told you.” is all Bill says, but you know he knows.

“Yeah.”

“P-please tell me you weren’t Trashmouth about i-it.”

“Bill, please. Have a little faith.”

Bill sees through your bravado. You know he does. He’s been like your brother since you were born. “Did y-you tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

You’re going to throw up. If Bill knows...If he knows, then you don’t know what you’re going to do. Run, probably. Run so far away your secrets can never catch you.

“Rich.” Bill steps down so you’re eye to eye. He’s not taller than you anymore, but he’s still your Bill. Your leader. Your brother. The almost-man you would follow anywhere. “You’re in love with him. Aren’t you?”

You hate everything about this. The tears in your eyes. The tremor in your hands. The fear that chokes you. The urge to run run run. 

But you nod, because you’ll be damned if you don’t try to live up to every ounce of bravery you always tried to instill into Eddie.

Bill smiles. Soft. Fond. “I l-love you, R-Richie.”

He pulls you into a hug. You don’t notice you’re crying until you pull away and his jacket is stained with your tears. “Sorry.”

Bill brushes his fingers through your hair. “D-Don’t b-be s-sorry. Be h-honest with E-Eds.”

As If on cue, Eddie rockets around the side of the house, shouting something incoherant. He bolts past you and Bill, then pauses at the doorway.

“You’re crying, Rich.”

You shake your head. Push up your glasses to wipe your face. He’s even pretty like this, blurred into soft browns and tans, pink and red. “I’m okay, Eds. I’ll tell you later.”

Eddie disappears inside. Bill follows him and, despite the catharsis of crying into your best friend’s jacket, you go around to the back of the barn and puke your guts out.

-----

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.

“Do you hate me?”

You stare at Eddie as if he’s lost his mind. It’s so dark you can’t see him without turning on the car’s dim overhead light. “Wh- Why would I hate you, Eds?”

“Because I’m gay.”

“The- What? No! I meant it, I love you no matter what.”

“Oh.” He sounds so small. You hate it. Eddie Kaspbrak should not ever be small.

You pull over again. The stars glitter above you. Eddie looks up at them and smiles a soft peaceful smile you’re used to wishing you could kiss. “Eddie.”

He hears you breathe his name and looks over. “Yeah, Rich?”

“I...” Fuck. “I love you too.”

The roles are reversed. “I know, you just said-  Oh.”

Nothing feels real in this moment. Your body is shaking. Your hands are cold and your face is warm. You want to run. Want to take it back. Apologize maybe, because you’ve ruined everything and a boy who loves his best friend is a dead boy, and It was right, this is why you would go missing or die alone, because you’re wrong and disgusting and-

Eddie kisses your cheek.

“Thank God,” Eddie whispers. “I love you so much, Rich, I thought I was the only one who-”

“Beep beep, Kaspbrak,” you say, leaning forward to kiss him properly, dry lips against soft ones, both of you shaking from fear and relief and probably a little bit of want. 

When you pull away, he’s smiling so wide his cheeks might burst. You pinch one between your fingers. “Cute, cute, cute!”

“Shut up, Richie.” He folds up the center console and rests his head on your shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You sigh. “I was scared.”

Your cheeks light up like a firework when he presses a kiss to your arm through your shirt. “Me too.”

You look down at him, his delicate hand knotted in the front of your shirt, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. Something in your heart settles into place, clicking like a lock.

“I love you,” you say again, just because you can. Your heart soars and carries you both home.

[tueeeeeee]

i saw a writing meme abt a ship in various prompts and immediately applied it to shenzed lol some of the scenarios are in the past and entertain a lot of my personal headcanons. like this is basically just a masterpost of my headcanons

wordcount: 4k, not explicit but pretty nsfw

topics: fake dating, bodyswap, sexpollen, secret kinks, first kiss, au, dark fic, and a sick ass crossover with mkx

cw age gap, noncon, yandere zed

Fake dating: as students, shen would try so hard to prioritize the mission, which is good because zed has it running secondary to making sure their relationship is believable as possible. of course that involves throwing himself all over shen and demanding shen make ridiculous sounds in private because they're listening in, shen, give them a show, make it convincing, and shen even knows zed is just taking advantage of the situation but he's too committed to the job to turn him down in public and risk the facade, so he just rolls along with it and smiles lovingly at zed and that's actually worse because zed starts getting the mad dokis

if it's after the fall and they have to work together again, it'd probably be while they're hunting jhin and they actually have to fake that they're NOT dating. they're in disguises but shen the bara giant is pretty hard to not notice, so he's just sitting there trying to be all you know. ah it's just me, a farmer, completely single and alone, my boyfriend is totally not hiding in the shadows ready to fuck u up. or zed gets caught out alone and shen comes to the rescue a la mimi's beautiful amazing comic and "my boyfriend's back and ur gonna get in trouble" is just blasting in the bg

Bodyswap: if this is during their student days, they'd actually probably have a lot of fun with it. zed likes being able to look at himself from different angles and shen secretly likes it too until zed goes in front of a mirror and starts making expressions just to see what shen's face looks like when he's really surprised! or what he looks like when he's picking his nose, or sticking out his tongue, and shen is just desperately covering zed's face and begging him to stop making those faces while he’s in shen’s body and please don't do that in front of other people

zed doesn't do it front of other people because he wants to be the only one who knows what it looks like, of course, and when he's alone, he tries on other expressions. he wants to see what shen looks like when he's happy, and smiling, and laughing, and it feels forced in front of the mirror but seeing it makes his heart flutter anyways. wanting to see what shen looks like when he's happy quickly turns into wanting to see what shen looks like when he's horny and then zed just straight up masturbates in front of the mirror. thanks zed.

anyway shen plays with himself too but he tries not to at first, he's better than that, this is so wrong and zed is going to kill him – until he remembers zed would definitely and has probably already taken advantage of this and then he just touches himself everywhere to see if this area is something he likes or if it's just a particularly sensitive area on zed's body (which is knowledge he's gleaning just for the sake of knowledge, of course, n-not like he's planning on utilizing it or anything...)

while they were students shen almost exclusively topped since "the son of the headmaster shouldn't be on his knees" so later when zed convinces shen into playing around it's an absolute delight for zed to get to be the pitcher for once, even if he's basically fucking his own body. shen agrees just because he doesn't want to have to look at himself, and besides zed's body is already used to it so shen willingly bottoms and being the repressed little sub he is he just fucking loses it and breathlessly asks zed afterwards with tears in his eyes, "are you always that sensitive?" and zed is like ??? not enough to fuckin cry about it and thats how shen discovers he likes taking it up the bum

if it's after the fall of the kinkou they'd probably just try to experiment with each other's abilities, then realize that even though they have access to them they can't really harness the power the same way. like zed's clones are sentient, and when shen finally manages to make one it just stares back at him for a while and then starts laughing uncontrollably, "i thought something was odd. now how did this happen?" and shen is unamused and more than a little flustered at being made to feel incompetent when he can't control the shadow and it just keeps laughing at him in zed's voice. 

meanwhile zed is excited to finally be able to see the spirits the way shen does, and he tries to walk the spirit realm and teleport and kind of just ends up concentrating himself into an aneurysm because he can't fucking figure it out and does the Old Man Yells At Cloud thing when he tries to talk to the spirits to get them to help him understand. they don't give a fuck about shen half the time so unsurprisingly, they don't pay any attention to zed either. also, zed would still masturbate in front of a mirror, except he does it furiously in this case

god im sorry that was so long but i just. i love the bodyswap trope so much o(-<

Sexpollen/fuck or die/aliens made them do it: as students, pretty much everything between them has to be a competition so it's a battle of wills to not jump each other and zed tries to goad shen on by playing up but being that close to each other just makes it worse. zed devolves into pretty much just clinging onto shen and begging him to please give in

shen doesn't want any of it, not when they're being made to feel that way, but zed insists that it isn't making him feel anything, not anything different from usual anyway. so shen brings him off with sympathetic intentions at first, and gently pushes zed's hands away whenever he tries to reciprocate, but watching zed come undone affects him more than he expected it to. zed said it isn't any different from usual but it is, zed isn't normally this pliant and desperate, and he doesn't usually call shen's name so sweetly and sometimes zed will outright make shen fight to get zed beneath him, but now, zed yields to him so easily and that should be evidence of how wrong this is but shen is so utterly captivated with this eager zed that he gives in and gives him the good dickin. he's super disappointed with himself later while zed is just smiling dopily, completely satisfied

fuck or die after the fallout would be rough hate-filled sex, zed pushing shen's face into the dirt and forcing him because it's easier that way. shen bitterly spits out that he'd rather die than touch zed, and zed only laughs because they both know that's a lie. if it were anyone else shen would 100% approach this with his usual pragmatism but it's zed and he hates being made to lose control like this, and of course zed won't just get it over with. he takes his pleasure and then leaves shen tied down and makes sure to work shen slowly and coax him with disgusting gentleness into climax, making it good for him and shen hates every second. he doesn't do anything like try to make shen beg because that shit would go nowhere fast, and afterwards zed is just completely smug with himself and shen hates him more than ever

Secret kinks: zed loves body odor which is really fucking unfortunate because shen reeks of it after the hours he spends training, and he probably knows it bc why else would he have his dirty clothes so conveniently left out like that for zed to furiously wank into while grumbling stupid sexy stinky shen

he has a bored and ignored kink too, but he's too fucking needy for it to ever take place out of his control so he has to specifically negotiate with shen to not pay attention to him during a scene, like zed showing off his bod or blowing shen while shen's just trying to read as long as they're 100% clear that shen has to make up for it later

he probably tries to convince shen to pee himself at least once but gets kinkshamed to death and never tries again. he also loves shen's hands/wrists and being praised. like ok, shen likes being praised too right? he'll glow and be intensely pleased and would fit that indulgent kind of "good boy!! you like pleasing me don't you" praise kink but zed's is like a fucking id-tagged collar in which only shen can hold the leash. shen gives him a passing glance and a murmured, "well done" while zed's just like sweeping and zed will somehow always be sweeping somewhere shen can see for the next five days, with a boner. you know what i mean??

anyway shen is the most repressed fucker out there so he THINKS he's vanilla but shen's definition of vanilla is very. i mean. he regularly undergoes resistance training and mindfuckery so you could tie him up and CBT him and he'd still just be like ah good ol vanilla sex. a lot of the kinks he has he isn't really even aware of having. shen doesn't know what he likes a lot of the time, in and out of bed. he spent his entire life being dictated, and it isn't until after zed gets rid of all the people who did that to him that he's forced to consider more deeply about himself

and of course he immediately finds that he likes being dominated and having someone else take control, even if they completely fuck him up in the process. he likes being collared and humiliated but he doesn't like his position as the eye of twilight being brought into it so shit like "look how far the eye has fallen" isn't gonna fly.

even so he's a bit of an exhibitionist. it's probably a carry-over from his student days when being caught was a definite possibility in a household full of ninja, so he likes the rush of doing it outside, especially since it also has the benefits of being rougher and quicker and there being no time for nonsense or softness

the concept of aftercare is a foreign one. the first time zed tries to administer it shen is repulsed and probably tries to escape but he can't get away from zeds sweet sweet embrace. he doesn't ever get used to it, not from zed the two-faced snake, and for good reason honestly. zed's brand of tenderness is kind of saccharine and condescending, and all too often he whispers secrets as if shen cares at all that zed used to love him, or that zed is glad he's here now, or that zed doesn't want to hurt him. really, he doesn't care. at all. not a bit.

also he tries to keep it secret that he loves getting dicked by zed's clones but it's pretty obvious. zed hates it because he gets jealous of himself but he absolutely loves all of shen's other kinks since he thinks shen would never trust someone other than zed to do those things to him

Their first kiss: shen was definitely the one who had to initiate it!! zed would have been fine with just pining after shen his entire life (not really), because he sure as hell wasn't going to give shen another point in his favor by letting him know that zed had F-FEELINGS FOR HIM... regardless it's still obvious as fuck to everybody, including shen, who kind of takes it in stride because let's be real shen was probably the target of numerous an unrequited crush in his life.

shen thinks he's doing a good job handling zeds emotions, letting him down gently without making it obvious he knows zed likes him, and it comes so naturally to him because hes so used to doing it that he doesn't even stop to think that maybe he actually kind of looks forward to zed's not-so-subtle attempts to spend more time together?? maybe he actually kind of wants to hold his hand?? maybe he's actually a raging homosexual?????

so the kiss would happen after a really tough mission that they just barely scraped through together, and shen's just so happy that they're both alive and safe that he gives zed a big ol smooch. obviously zed's not-so-subtle attempts become outright overt now that he knows it's mutual (even if shen keeps embarrassedly trying to convince him it's not)

likewise, their first kiss after they start working together to hunt jhin would also be shen calling it. zed's older now and not as angry and petulant. their history and ties are so intensely and irrevocably woven together that he just kind of dully accepts that a little part of him will always love shen, right next to the part that will always resent him. because of that he doesn't want to ruin this tentative (and probably temporary) truce they've got going on, even though he's unexpectedly thrilled to have shen by his side again and he's dying to ask whether stick-up-his-ass prudish shen has bedded anyone else in the past five years

shen's kind of not really in the same boat bc the power dynamic is mostly in his favor and it's zed who has to watch his footing, but shen has never had an equal like zed before or since. he can see that zed's changed, but he's also remained the same in the ways that matter and not all of them matter in a good way. for one, he still doesn't see reason in balance, and shen argues that zed himself is contributing to the power balance by foiling shen and zed absolutely hates that because he doesn't want to sustain a war between their clans just for the sake of shen's notion of equilibrium.

shen feels duty-bound and obligated to his clan to you know, not consort with the enemy, but he's also aware of the intrinsic connection he has with zed and how they're naturally drawn together. and it could be something as tiny as a bad dream or getting caught in the rain or meeting eyes when they've both just awoken, and shen acknowledges the inevitability of it and just kisses him

anyways when!! will riot give me my jhin lore follow-up!!

A crossover of my choice: the events of ninja gaiden could fit seamlessly right into ionia but there's pretty much no way im picking it over a mortal kombat crossover.... yall know how much my ass loves mkx

anyway quan chi has manipulated pretty much every one and thing in existence so it's not at all surprising that he was the one who brought into existence the scroll of shadows that corrupts zed and instills in him a thirst for power so great it drives him to destroy the kinkou. zed's death animation where he opens a portal? actually just to get back to netherrealm. quan chi sees him and just sighs again, really? and restores him and sends him back up

also ok. i know thematically shen has a lot in common with subzero but think of raiden and shen..... raiden was probably bosom buddies with master kusho, they regularly convened to discuss the state of earthrealm and shen got to inherit that friendship and trust!! raiden guides him and tells him how to purify zed, which leads him into scorpion and subzeros path since at this point they're revenants too. afterwards shen holds the recovery club for "I Was Under Quan Chi's Control" but only hanzo and kuai liang are invited

after all zed still has his entire fucking order of shadows which were forged under quan chi's ideals, and just like how hanzo still resents the massacre of his clan zed still resents the kinkou--that wasn't something that was instilled into him through quan chi's control. so basically everyone hates zed still. bye zed

i had fatalities for shen and zed written out too but....... i dont want to talk abt it here since it's obviously gorey and honestly embarrassing to talk about lmao!!! NEXT

An AU of my choice: i love my bloodborne AU so much but it's too detailed and involves more than just sz so i'll settle for another one about time shenanigans

shen tries to bypass zed's whole crawling into a shadow portal and escaping death thing by sealing him away in a time loop, but when the dust settles something's obviously gone wrong. there's a body laying there and shen picks him up and carries him inside and no one can really believe it, but the old kinkou veterans were raised next to that face and they know what zed looked like in his youth.

he's ten years younger, before the order of shadows and before the golden demon, and he hasn't just been aged down but swapped places entirely because he knows fuck all about what's going on. akali wants to kill him before he can fuck everything up but agrees that'd mess with too much other shit, kennen is so so sad and tries the hardest to make zed feel at home even though he and zed were never particularly close, and shen keeps his distance as best he can manage. he doesn't want to look at this zed when all it makes him think about is how things should have been

young zed feels confused and alone as fuck in this future timeline. so many members of the kinkou are foreign to him and the familiar ones are made of bitter implications and no one tells him outright why he's being ostracized, shen is never at the temple and when he is he's holed away. zed has to practically ambush him just to find out shen's already gone to pay zilean a visit to work out what's gone wrong, and all zilean told him was that he needed to find where the feedback came from that switched the zeds

eventually someone tries to assassinate zed as a preventative measure and shen realizes it's not safe for him at the kinkou monastery, so he takes zed with him on his journey to find the zero point and angst happens as they measure each other up to the versions of themselves they're familiar with--present shen is discomfited by how naive past zed is, past zed can't believe how much bigger the stick up shen's ass got, but after he learns what his future self did he can't imagine ever hating shen enough to do that to him. queue lots of bonding, slow burn, shen waffling and acting under a LOT of pretenses because he doesnt want to take advantage of this younger zed, who sees him as a mentor

meanwhile present zed wakes up in his old room and thinks he's trapped in a memory, and confirms it the only way he knows how. he sneaks into shen's room and is completely delighted upon finding a young shen who's much too interactive to be just a memory, and quickly works out what's​ happened. the thought of killing shen doesn't even cross his mind, not when shen barely presents a challenge like this. rather, he finds himself appreciating the change in their dynamics now that the power balance is tipped in zed's favor.

he goes on his own trip to find zilean and tells shen to stay here and give master kusho an excuse as to why zed is gone. instead, zed vanishes off away from the monastery and, twenty minutes later, has to make himself detectable just so shen can find him properly from where he's followed zed to.

zed secretly wanted this to happen and gladly takes the young shen under his wing. obviously he doesn't tell him why zed's eyes are red or his hair is white or why sometimes he'll completely disappear in the shadows. eventually he coaxes shen into bed and fucks him, which is something shen never allowed him in his time, and the sensations of it are transmitted to future shen through his dreams and he wakes up feeling phantom sensations of zed holding him and eventually the present sz discover they have a very rudimentary means of communicating through their past selves via sex dreams/strong emotions lol

the juxtaposition between present shen and zed would have been explored, because even though at a glance, shen sticks to his lawfulness and zed immorally takes advantage of the power imbalance, when they each discover that they receive the feelings of their past selves, zed treats past shen tenderly and tries to make him softer.... whispers the things he needs to remember, in the hopes that present shen will hear them and meet him halfway so that they can fix the timeline (and also meet him halfway feelings-wise 83c) whereas shen fights the young past zed and humiliates him, trains him even though logic tells him he shouldn't, treats zed the way the kinkou treated him, and all the feelings conveyed to present zed are ones of bitterness until it reaches a head and past zed snaps at him and almost dies. after that shen realizes that in lieu of master kusho distancing zed from the clan, shen is now the one doing that, when he should be taking this as an opportunity to fix the future and set things right between them.

just like present shen is forced to confront things about himself though, so is present zed. his feelings of "haha past shen was such a puppy" turn into slow realizations of why he loved shen in the first place. he thought, all this time, it was just because he was attracted to power and back then, shen had had it in abundance. but now, he can destroy shen any time he wishes and yet... it just makes him regret even more how things ended up the way they did, and he tries to give vague hints to past shen about things to avoid, and to remember to take care of himself and master kusho.

anyways it turns out the whole thing was engineered by zilean because he sees all timelines and he wants one where there isn't a fucking war between the shadows and the kinkou

ok i put this one at the bottom just bc it's yandere zed and it's pretty fucked and does get pretty graphic

tw mind control, brief ableism, amputation, lobotomy

Dark!fic: all of zed's students knows of his fixation on shen. by now everyone's used to those brief intense moments where he'll waft smog from his body just thinking about shen nd cursing his existence but none of them really know the full extent of it. it's not just zed, but the shadows as well, and they've wanted shen for such a long time, especially after kusho sealed them away. to take control of shen would be the first step to controlling two worlds after all, but instead, after all their pining, it's zed who comes along and they don't care about him but its their first opportunity in years, and they can sense the frustration and mutability in him so with no other option they decide he'll do

but when they take him over, zed's present fixation on shen, a very different sort, warps the shadows' and it becomes this twisted love where zed wants shen solely for himself, shen's mind and body and ambition must all belong to him, and he needs to kill everyone who gets in the way of that. of course, shen's father is first. then, the rest of the kinkou. when he finally has shen, he really doesn't want his hard work to go to waste! shen fights back of course but that's what makes him so cute--no, no, it's why he's a worthy host body, take him now--but all of zed's hard work!--and shen, where do you think you're going?

oh geez. zed REALLY doesn't want to do this but shen's always been so strong and zed can't guarantee he'll always be able to overpower shen or outrun him. well, he will be able to guarantee it if shen has no legs! you complete utter fool you've rendered him useless! he loves shen's hands though so he gets to keep those.

zed was really hoping that would be all it took, he was even being extra nice to shen by not force-feeding him those chi suppressants. but no. a week later shen tries to escape again, by warping out this time, and zed desperately and frantically tears the place apart looking for him. he sends his order out but shen could be anywhere at all, though shen's mind apparently couldn't take him very far because they find him rather quickly. he's lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood. it looks like he was dragging himself towards the edge of that cliff, but the ones who found him don't tell zed that.

zed is heartbroken. he's not even angry, maybe a little, but he's just so sad that shen still wants to leave him after all they've been through. he holds shen and apologizes over and over for taking his legs, he knows shen was--attached to them. zed will definitely make it up to him. he loves shen so much. the shadows agree with that much at least. as gently as he can he straps shen to a chair and takes out an ice pick, positioning it very carefully over shen's prefrontal cortex. shen, please stop squirming and shouting, please, he doesn't want to hurt you. he's going to make it better. he's going to make it so that you never want to leave.

on a lighter note thnks for checkin in!! i dont realistically expect anyone to read the entire thing because the way i type is actually horrendous but thanks for reading even a lil bit. i wrote this like 5 months ago which is thankfully enough time to not care as much about how embarrassing this is :)

i lied im still embarrassed