#could be!!! but it just isn't!! she needs more she needs to BE more she just needs to be...god anyways maybe i'll rewatch this tomorrow :'(

[anirudhpisharody]

There is not a locked room anywhere that with the right tools and enough time you can't break into.

[ID: A series of 21 gifs from the TV show 9-1-1.

The 1st gif shows Hen and Eddie untangling Halloween decorations at the firehouse. Eddie says, "You never know when a door is gonna close, and when it does, then...". Hen replies "It's sealed".

The 2nd gif shows Shannon talking to Eddie, who is offscreen, at a restaurant. She says, "Because if I try to do this again before I'm ready, there won't be a second chance."

The 3rd gif shows Pepa talking to Eddie, who is offscreen. She says, "It's been too long. You need to do something or you're going to be alone forever."

The 4th gif shows an injured woman lying on a backboard in a c-collar talking to Eddie and Hen, who are offscreen. She says, "We're all gonna die alone. Might as well spend time with our loved ones while we're still living." The gif cuts to a shot of Eddie and Hen looking at her.

The 5th gif shows Shannon lying down in an ambulance with a c-collar. She is talking to Eddie, who is offscreen. She says, "I'd love...a little more time."

The 6th gif shows Eddie during a flashback talking to Shannon, who is offscreen. He says "Can we please talk about this later? Can I maybe just get a little damn time?"

The 7th gif shows Eddie with tears in his eyes talking to Kim, who is offscreen. He says, "Never did get to say all the things I wanted to say. or hear all the things I needed to hear, I guess."

The 8th gif shows Ramon sitting down at a table talking to Eddie, who is offscreen. He says, "Why didn't you tell us?" The gif cuts to a shot of Eddie, who says, "Pretty sure you know the answer to that question."

The 9th gif shows Eddie standing in front of his fridge with tears in his eyes, talking to Ana, who is offscreen. He says, "I should have said something sooner." Ana replies, still offscreen, "Yeah. You probably should have."

The 10th gif shows Buck talking to Eddie, who is offscreen. He says, "You said you did this a year ago, why are you just telling me now?"

The 11th gif shows Eddie underground during the well rescue. You cannot see his face. He says, "I need more time", but the text indicates it's unintelligible. The gif cuts to a shot of Bobby looking frustrated, then cuts to a shot of Buck shouting, "Cap, can't we give him more time?"

The 12th gif shows Christopher yelling at Eddie, who is offscreen. Offscreen, Eddie says, "We'll make an even bigger gingerbread house next year, right?" Christopher replies, "You could be dead next year!" The gif cuts to a shot of Eddie looking up at Christopher, who is offscreen, with a shocked look.

The 13th gif shows Eddie on the phone. He says, "Why wait? Well, there's no better time than now."

The 14th gif shows Eddie at the firehouse talking to Chimney, who is offscreen. He says, "Tomorrow isn't promised to anyone. If you love her, tell her."

The 15th gif shows Shannon at a restaurant talking to Eddie, who is offscreen. She says, "Eddie, uh, I think–". The gif cuts to a shot of Eddie, where he cuts Shannon off and says, "Please, just...let me say this."

The 16th gif shows Buck talking to Eddie, who is offscreen. He says, "Uh, Eddie–". The gif cuts to a shot of Eddie, where he cuts Buck off and says, "Just let me finish."

The 17th gif shows Buck being pushed towards the ground, with blood splattered on his face. He is staring ahead at Eddie, who is offscreen, with a shocked expression. The gif cuts to a shot of Eddie, who is lying on his side on the street, with his head in a puddle of blood. He is staring ahead at Buck, who is offscreen, as his hand falls forward towards Buck.

The 18th gif shows a close-up of Eddie talking to Christopher, who is offscreen. He says, "You can always come back. If you change your mind five minutes or five months from now...".

The 19th gif shows Eddie sitting in a confessional booth. Offscreen, a priest says to him, "Well, I imagine after 23 years, something in particular must be bothering you enough to make you feel like you need to be here."

The 20th gif shows Eddie talking to Buck, who is offscreen. He says, "Don't walk away from something before you even know what it is."

The 21st gif shows Eddie opening his front door. The gif cuts to wide shot of him smiling and nodding hello to Buck, who is offscreen. Eddie is wearing a button-up shirt with no pants. The gif then cuts to a shot of a visibly upset Buck standing outside, looking at Eddie.

END ID]

[moonlight-alexia]

forever with you | a.p.

alexia putellas x reader | 2.5k | forever with you sounds perfect to alexia, there isn't anyone else she'd rather be with / alexia proposing to you

italics indicate that it's a little memory/flashback

ˏˋ°•*⁀ it is officially the 4th here in aus, my favourites birthday <3 so here is a little alexia fic for her birthday. i hope you all enjoy it

‘Ah mi amor,’ You let out a small laugh as Alexia gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you onto her lap. You’d both been caught up in celebrating the supercopa win, along with Alexia and her captain duties, you hadn’t seen much of each other, ‘I’ve missed you,’ You let out a soft sigh, smiling as she tucked your hair behind your ear.

‘I’m here now Ale,’ Leaning into her touch you placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth, lightly teasing her.

Though Alexia wasn’t having any of that and swiftly pulled you in for a kiss. Your lips softly brushing against each other, adding more pressure and deepening the kiss.

‘Dios mío, get a room,’ You heard Mapi yell before something soft was hitting you both making you pull apart. A silent agreement between you and Alexia that you were both ready to go back to your hotel room. Wanting to spend some time where it was just the two of you.

Alexia was already in bed when you came back from the bathroom. You always took a lot more care and had a much more in depth skincare routine than Alexia did so it was quite common for her to already be in bed, waiting for you. More times than not after a big match like the one you just played today, Alexia would already be asleep, even if she’d wake slightly when you slipped in beside her and protest that she was just resting her eyes and not really asleep. 

But the protests always died when you’d pull her into your side, arm wrapped around Alexia’s waist, her neck snuggled in the crook of yours, a soft kiss on her forehead and she’d be back asleep within seconds.

Though tonight, even though she was physically tired, Alexia knew she wasn’t going to get the best sleep tonight. Even with the thought of being cuddled up against your side, the weight of the ring she had in her bag, packed so delicately and very well hidden in case you went to grab anything out of her bag like you normally did, would be on her mind all night.

No matter what the outcome of the final, Alexia had the proposal planned. Perfectly planned exactly how she knew you would like. Planned 

‘Ale, did you need-,’ Except, those plans went out the window the moment she looked up at you as you were making your way to bed. You were wearing one of Alexia’s hoodies, the one that you’d claimed as your own when the two of you first started dating. Your favourite of Alexia’s and you’d always make sure she wore it right before you’d go to your respective national teams. Helped you sleep better before matches if it felt like Alexia was there next to you.

Most of Alexia’s clothes were slightly too big on you and the hoodie was just that. Your hair you had messily put up in a bun, not caring how it looked since it was only up so it wouldn’t get in your way when going through your nightly routine knowing you would take it out the second you got into bed. The warmth of the light from the lamp hitting your skin just right, along with the natural glow of your skin. 

To Alexia, in this light you looked utterly beautiful, no words could accurately describe just how gorgeous you are. At least none that could ever do it justice in Alexia’s eyes. It’s in moments like this that Alexia wishes she could take photos with her eyes, she just wants you to see and understand how you are to her. As if the small smile and dreamy look in her eyes whenever her gaze landed upon yours wouldn’t tell you on its own. You were the one for her and she never let you feel any other way or leave room for you to doubt her feelings for you.

Alexia’s known for a while that she wants to marry you. You stole her heart and never gave it back, not that she minded you kept it safe and unbroken. It was a moment quite similar to this one right now when Alexia realised that she wanted to officially spend forever with you.

It had been a long day at training, even more so since you’d lost the last game. Losing wasn’t something you’d often come across these days playing at Barcelona, but it wasn’t something that you could avoid forever. The lows always helped to make the wins feel that much better. 

There was always an intensity to training and after a loss it was always much more intense. So going home, the home you shared and built together with your girlfriend, made these days feel that much better. 

‘Ale,’ You softly sighed, turning your head so you were looking up at her, ‘You’re sending me to sleep and it’s still so early,’ You were laying with your head on Alexia’s lap, a movie on in the background while she was caught up with, you were sure it was, something related to football on her ipad. Her fingers gently playing with your hair and, every now and then,  running softly along the back of your neck. 

‘Mi vida, just relax,’ Alexia’s attention was fully on you now, leaning down lightly kissing the top of your head, ‘You deserve it cariño,’ The softness in which she spoke to you always made your heart flutter and your body fill with warmth. She knew how hard you worked and how you struggled to let yourself rest when you needed it. 

Alexia peppered your face with soft kisses, deliberately skipping your lips each time she got close, ‘Amor,’ You whined softly, Alexia smiled, her hand tracing along your jaw while her lips hovered above yours. You were about to whine again when she let them connect. A slow, deep kiss, lips lingering against yours momentarily when she pulled away. 

‘Te amo,’ You whispered it back, both of you in your own little bubble, ‘Now rest, I’m right here if you need me, not going anywhere,’ 

Alexia gently rubbed along your back while you curled up even more against her. It didn’t take long for you to allow yourself to relax with Alexia, it had always come naturally. At the end of the day her arms were your safety, whatever happened during the day didn’t matter as long as you were in her embrace.

The glow of the afternoon sun slipped through the bottom of the blinds, the glow illuminating your face. Some days your schedules were packed full, so Alexia always enjoyed these quiet moments with you. Whatever she had been doing on her ipad was fully forgotten, she was captivated by you. 

The thought of forever with you, of marrying you, popped into her head that day. Realising that she would be content with spending every moment of her life with you, wanting to share every moment and achievement with you. Knowing that without you by her side she wouldn’t feel completely whole. From that day she’d started planning and trying to figure out the perfect proposal, though Alexia would never forget the day that made her almost accidentally blurt out a proposal. 

It wasn’t even a loss, but it was a very sloppy win and it hit Alexia harder than anyone could have anticipated. She had seemed fine afterwards, but you’d failed to realise she was just going through the motions completely on autopilot. Alexia wasn’t the loudest or most out there person but she wasn’t the quietest either.

Alexia couldn’t help but put even more pressure on herself. It was a habit she had, along with your help, tried so hard to stop. The pressure to be the best all the time, and you hated seeing how she would shut down when the weight of that came crashing down pulling her with it. That didn’t stop the occasional slip and Alexia falling back into that habit, one that came so naturally to her.

‘Lo siento, mi amor,’ You crouched down in front of Alexia. You don’t recall hearing Alexia speak a word since you both got home, though you’d been distracted trying to get the both of you something to eat, ‘I should’ve noticed,’ Your voice was soft and small. You weren’t necessarily talking to Alexia right now, knowing that she wouldn’t really be listening to anything outside of her own head.

‘All those missed chances,’ You knew she was thinking about the game before she’d even said it. She was fidgeting with her fingers so you took her hands in your own, your thumb gently rubbing over her hand.

‘You know it wasn’t just you. You don’t have to be perfect for us, there’s no such thing and you know that,’ Your voice still had a softness to it but there was a slight firm undertone, one that was needed to break through all the self doubts that was filling her head, you needed her to hear you, ‘There are days when, despite everything we do, it just doesn’t click for us out there. But we will come back stronger next time. You’re not alone in this and you don’t need to carry the weight of it all by yourself. You’ve always got me, the team and the fans. No one needs- I don’t need you to be perfect,’ 

You could see the conflict in her eyes, the hesitation to believe what you were saying, ‘It’s not you that has to fix everything all the time. Yes you’re our captain, pero amor, lean on us we’ve got you, I’ve got you. You are more than enough exactly as you are,’ You brought each of her hands up to your lips, softly kissing each knuckle while looking up at her.

A deep sigh, Alexia nodded slightly leaning forward so her forehead was resting against yours. You wrapped your arms around Alexia, tightly holding her against you, ‘Gracias, mi amor. How do you always know what to say, what I need,’ 

‘Because I just know you Ale,’ Another way to say you love Alexia, a way that means more to her than she could ever tell you, ‘How about a warm bath and an early night? Bubbles in the bath?’ 

‘I’m not a kid,’ Alexia’s voice was small and you could hear the small pout her lips were forming. 

You chuckled softly, ‘Oh my mistake, so you really really don’t want a warm bath with little bubbles,’ Your tone was teasing.

‘Con una vela vainilla y pequeña, por favor,’ Alexia kissed the side of your neck, you could feel a small smile against you and your heart felt a little lighter knowing Alexia was going to be okay.

When you wrapped her up in a soft, fluffy blanket in bed later that night, holding her close to you. She almost asked you to marry her, while she took care of you, you never hesitated to take care of her. To let her know it was okay to not be the one to take care of everyone all the time. Alexia let you take care of her, she felt safe enough to do that with you.

Her plans didn’t matter anymore, right now was perfect.

‘Alexia…’ Your voice cut through, bringing Alexia back to reality. You were now standing at the side of the bed, lightly waving your hand in front of Alexia’s face. She registered the use of her name and raised an eyebrow at you, ‘Knew that would make you come back to me,’ You smirked knowing there’s only certain times when she doesn’t mind you using her name and right now wasn’t one of them.

‘¿Estás bien?’ You asked since it had been a long day, you’d more than understand her being tired but zoning out was on the more unusual side for Alexia.

‘More than,’ Alexia couldn’t wait any longer. You were confused when she sprung out of bed, almost like there was a fire she had to get away from as quickly as she could, ‘You’re so beautiful,’ Alexia had circled the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist bringing you into her, her other hand cupping your cheek. You leaned into her touch, your face heating up at the intimacy. After all these years together and Alexia still made you feel like you were a teenager having her first crush.

Alexia kissed you deeply, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed once she pulled away. There was this goofy, lovesick smile that wouldn’t leave her face when she looked at you. You sitting in front of her, in her hoodie, in your natural beauty and the thought of forever felt like it would never be long enough with you.

‘Mi vida, wait here, por favor,’ A small chuckle left your lips, still confused with Alexia’s sudden actions but she was cute so of course you listened and watched her rummage through her bag.

Walking back towards you, hands behind her back holding the box out of view for now, Alexia suddenly grew very nervous. She didn’t have any doubt that you would say no, but she was second guessing if it was the right moment for you. It felt right for Alexia so she pushed through the doubts, also worried that she wouldn’t find the right words or convey them in the way she wants to. She didn’t have that extra mirror practice like she had planned to have the night before.

A small timid, partly awkward still partly goofy and loved up, smile graced her lips, ‘Mi amor, I had this all planned out but looking at you right now, seeing you and just being here with you, nothing has ever felt more right,’ A small gasp left your lips when Alexia knelt down on one knee, revealing the box and the ring inside it to you, ‘You are so beautiful and I really love the life we’ve built together. There is no one else but you, you are the one for me, we just fit together like we were made for each other. Like you were made for me,’ Your eyes were starting to well up with tears with each word Alexia spoke. She was pouring all her emotion and feelings into her words and you could feel it so deep within you, ‘I want a forever with you, mi vida, will you do me the honour of being my wife,’ 

So overcome with emotion, it felt like all the air had been sucked from your lungs. You nodded furiously and let out the smallest, ‘Sí,’ while you pulled Alexia up your lips crashing onto hers. Deep, breathless and full of a joy that couldn’t be contained between you both. 

Alexia chuckled when you finally let her pull away slightly, ‘Amor, amor, I need to put the ring on your finger, por favor,’ 

You laughed forgetting that you skipped over that part entirely, just wanting to be close to her. Alexia took your hand and slid the ring on your finger, gently leaving a kiss to seal her love that would stay with you for a lifetime.

Alexia held you in her arms, your eyes transfixed on the ring that shone beautifully on your finger. You still couldn’t believe it, ‘This was perfect Ale,’ Whispering out into the soft comfortable silence that filled the hotel room you were staying in, ‘I love you Alexia,’

‘I love you, more than anything,’

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

liked by alexiaputellas, marialeonn16 and 130,809 others y/n if this is what i get after a cup win, what could i get after we win the champions league again 😏 ps. forever with you has a nice ring to it mi amor ❤️tagged: alexiaputellas

[seitmai]

“What did she say?” Steve whispered to break the silence. “You heard what she said. Everyone heard it,” Sam whispered back, giving you a quizzical stare. “How many drinks have you had?” You held up a finger followed by another couple. “Like this many. And water. Hydration is so important.”

Hahah this just cracked me up 😂

“Yeah, I know. He’s hot. We all know he’s hot,” you shrugged. “And I said what I said.”

Period

You were careful not to be cruel if you disagreed with anyone, but you still led with honesty. Alcohol didn’t change that. So, if you said you thought Bucky was hot and you wanted him to fuck you raw, you meant it.

Honesty to a fault 🤷🏻‍♀️😅

“And you know he’s sitting next to you, right?” she asked. You downed the rest of your drink and shrugged again. “Yeah, I know. And I’d let him fuck me raw. Every day. Twice on Sundays,” you said unapologetically as Steve coughed. You swung your head toward Bucky with a sultry smile and leaned in a little closer. He smelled your perfume before you sat down tonight, but now the sweet smell combined with your natural scent was making him dizzy. “You’d fuck me raw, right? Maybe fuck me from behind so you can get nice and deep.”

No holding back hahah

Bucky heard Thor’s footsteps, but didn’t take his eyes off you as the God of Thunder took a seat. “Clearly, I’ve missed something.” “I said I want Bucky to fuck me raw,” you said without missing a beat. And your bluntness didn’t seem to bother the blonde. “I thought you two were already having relations. With how close you two-”

I love how unbothered and 0% of shocked Thor is 😂

“Is that not what they’re discussing?” Thor asked, taking a sip from his flask. “Though if there is no protection there is the risk of procreating, but they would have beautiful offspring.”

I can't 😂😂😂

“And if a breeding kink is what you’re into, actually breeding me or not, I’m all for it. I’m wet just thinking about it.” Thor laughed and held up his flask. “That’s the spirit.”

Thor is killing me 😂

Bucky’s cock twitched in his pants. “I know you’re wet. I can smell it,” he all but growled. He inhaled so deeply he could actually taste it, and he wanted more. And if he could smell it, Steve could smell it. "Okay then.” Clint removed his hearing aid. “I think I’m done.”

No Clint removing his hearing aid 😂

“Breed her well, Barnes. Make us proud!” Thor shouted. Steve hauled him from the room, too, with Clint hot on their tail.

I'm so sad, I loved Thor’s commentary 😅

“I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable or weird. I’d never want that.” “That’s the last thing I feel,” he exhaled, still gripping your arms when you finally moved into his lap and straddled him. “Good,” you smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

Perfect 😌

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life,” he admitted, brushing a tear away that fell. “But you’ve been drinking, and that means you can’t fully consent, and I will not take advantage of you, no matter how you say you want me or this. I respect and care for you too much for that.” HYDRA took consent away from Bucky for a long time, and it was one of the worst feelings in the world. He’d hate himself for doing anything with you without your full consent. He wouldn’t be the kind of man who did that. The man you deserved would be the one who properly took care of you in and out of bed.

He is just the best 🥰🥹

However you wanted your first time to be, he'd make it happen. He'd make love to you or fuck you or both. As long as there was clear consent and communication, he’d give you everything you needed and more, and he knew you'd do the same for him.

🥰🥰🥰

The smile you gave him repaired the cracks in his heart. “You’re a good guy, Bucky,” you said, snuggling against him. “And it isn’t just sex I want, but, well, I do want to have sex with you.” “You’re adorable,” he chuckled and rested his chin on your head. “And I know. It isn't just sex I want either.”

Ahh this was just the perfect mix of spicy, cute and hilarious 👏🏻

Love drunk Bucky! What about a drunk reader?

Yes, we've seen drunk!Bucky in Pretty Girl. A drunk reader could be fun.

Your Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You're very vocal about wanting Bucky Barnes.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Drunk reader with no filter, drunk confession, dirty talk, humor, slight feels, talk of consent and communication, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Raw. Next question.”

You sipped your drink, the room going eerily silent. It was the quietest it had been since everyone gathered in the lounge for some drinks hours ago. Pairs of eyes stared at you with a mix of fascination and shock as your words hung in the air.

Just moments ago, Clint had been going through his phone and showing everyone candid photos he managed to snap of everyone. Most of them were hilarious, but the most recent one wasn't hilarious at all. It was clearly hot based on your reaction.

“What did she say?” Steve whispered to break the silence.

“You heard what she said. Everyone heard it,” Sam whispered back, giving you a quizzical stare. “How many drinks have you had?”

You held up a finger followed by another couple. “Like this many. And water. Hydration is so important.”

“Hold on. Back to what you said a second ago.” Clint turned the phone toward him with a raised brow and slowly turned it back toward you so you could see it again. “You know that’s a picture of Barnes, right? Not some model or actor?” he asked.

Bucky Barnes, the beefy super soldier who was trying not to shatter the bottle in his metal hand as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes. Clint managed to snap a photo of him when he removed his shirt after a recent workout, which begged the question of why he was taking the photo to begin with. Bucky wasn’t looking at the camera since his eyes were shut, but his parted mouth, slightly messy hair, and sweat shining off his torso made him look like a thirst trap. The sweatpants only made the picture that much hotter.

“Yeah, I know. He’s hot. We all know he’s hot,” you shrugged. “And I said what I said.”

Bucky audibly exhaled. You had a penchant for being very honest with the team which they appreciated. If someone asked for your opinion or thoughts on something you didn’t hide how you felt. You were careful not to be cruel if you disagreed with anyone, but you still led with honesty. Alcohol didn’t change that.

So, if you said you thought Bucky was hot and you wanted him to fuck you raw, you meant it.

Clint exchanged a quick glance with Natasha before the redhead nodded to the spot beside you. The spy looked like she was having a hard time not smiling. “And you know he’s sitting next to you, right?” she asked.

You downed the rest of your drink and shrugged again. “Yeah, I know. And I’d let him fuck me raw. Every day. Twice on Sundays,” you said unapologetically as Steve coughed. You swung your head toward Bucky with a sultry smile and leaned in a little closer. He smelled your perfume before you sat down tonight, but now the sweet smell combined with your natural scent was making him dizzy. “You’d fuck me raw, right? Maybe fuck me from behind so you can get nice and deep.”

The bottle shattered which only made you smile more. Bucky’s nostrils flared and everyone backed up a few inches, except for you, the newest member of the team. The person who loved to leave little treats and snacks for him to make sure he ate throughout the day. The same person who made a show of bending over and stretching in front of him whenever you two worked out together. The only one who seemed to get a real smile out of him since you showed up like a shining beacon of happiness and sass.

And now you were telling him you want him to fuck you. Raw. He thought about it, of course- how wet and snug you’d feel around his bare cock, how you’d take him like a good girl. He pictured you sobbing his name and squirming as he pinned you down and brought you over the edge again and again. Licking his lips, he imagined the taste of your arousal on his tongue and wondered if he could make you squirt. He sure as hell wanted to try.

Bucky heard Thor’s footsteps, but didn’t take his eyes off you as the God of Thunder took a seat. “Clearly, I’ve missed something.”

“I said I want Bucky to fuck me raw,” you said without missing a beat.

Bucky bit back a groan. He was two seconds away from throwing you over his shoulder like a caveman and taking you away from everyone. There were so many filthy things he wanted to say and do to you…

And your bluntness didn’t seem to bother the blonde. “I thought you two were already having relations. With how close you two-”

“I’m sorry. Did you just say ‘relations’?” Clint asked. “Relations.”

“Is that not what they’re discussing?” Thor asked, taking a sip from his flask. “Though if there is no protection there is the risk of procreating, but they would have beautiful offspring.”

You leaned in a bit closer, but Bucky gripped your arms to move you away from his spot. “I don't want the glass to cut you.”

“You're so thoughtful. And amazing,” you smiled. He adored your smile. “And if a breeding kink is what you’re into, actually breeding me or not, I’m all for it. I’m wet just thinking about it.”

Thor laughed and held up his flask. “That’s the spirit.”

Bucky’s cock twitched in his pants. “I know you’re wet. I can smell it,” he all but growled. He inhaled so deeply he could actually taste it, and he wanted more. And if he could smell it, Steve could smell it.

“Okay then.” Clint removed his hearing aid. “I think I’m done.”

Steve jumped up when his best friend glared at him. “I think I’m done, too,” he said, not wanting to face Bucky’s wrath even though it wasn’t his fault he also had heightened senses.

“Let’s go, boys. I think these two should talk without us,” Natasha suggested, hauling Sam up by the arm and giving both of you a wink. “Be good, okay?”

“No promises,” you replied in a sing-song voice.

“Shouldn’t they get a room? I’m just saying,” Sam said as Natasha dragged him away.

“Breed her well, Barnes. Make us proud!” Thor shouted. Steve hauled him from the room, too, with Clint hot on their tail.

“Alone at last,” you giggled. If you were at all embarrassed, it didn’t show. And now that the two of you were alone, the tension skyrocketed. “You know, this isn't how I pictured saying any of this, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” he said. He couldn't believe you wanted him, but you did.

“I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable or weird. I’d never want that.”

“That’s the last thing I feel,” he exhaled, still gripping your arms when you finally moved into his lap and straddled him.

“Good,” you smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

As much as he wanted to feel your lips against his, he stopped you. And as much as he wanted to tear your leggings away and have you then and there, but he couldn’t. “I’m not fucking you. Not tonight.”

The playfulness slipped from your eyes. So did the smile from your face. “Oh. I thought…” you breathed, looking away and quickly blinking. God, he hoped there weren’t tears in your eyes. “You don’t actually want me, do you?”

Bucky hadn’t meant for his words or stopping the kiss to come across as rejection, but that was exactly what happened. “That’s not–”

“Oh, my God. I ruined everything, didn't I? Why did I open my mouth?” You sniffled and tried to move away, but he wouldn't let you. “Six months of friendship and crushing on you and I-”

“Hey. You didn't ruin a thing.” Bucky gripped your chin with tenderness he didn’t think he was capable of anymore, and his heart broke when he saw the tears swimming in your beautiful eyes. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life,” he admitted, brushing a tear away that fell. “But you’ve been drinking, and that means you can’t fully consent, and I will not take advantage of you, no matter how you say you want me or this. I respect and care for you too much for that.”

HYDRA took consent away from Bucky for a long time, and it was one of the worst feelings in the world. He’d hate himself for doing anything with you without your full consent. He wouldn’t be the kind of man who did that. The man you deserved would be the one who properly took care of you in and out of bed.

And he’d be the best man for you if you let him.

“So, you do want me?” you asked, your voice uncertain.

“I did say more than anyone else, and I meant it,” he replied. You had to believe him. “But our first time should happen when you're sober.”

However you wanted your first time to be, he'd make it happen. He'd make love to you or fuck you or both. As long as there was clear consent and communication, he’d give you everything you needed and more, and he knew you'd do the same for him.

The smile you gave him repaired the cracks in his heart. “You’re a good guy, Bucky,” you said, snuggling against him. “And it isn’t just sex I want, but, well, I do want to have sex with you.”

“You’re adorable,” he chuckled and rested his chin on your head. “And I know. It isn't just sex I want either.”

Bucky wanted to take you to bed, but he also wanted to take you out on dates. He wanted to make you laugh and smile, wipe your tears and comfort you when you cried, and be the one you confided in. He wanted to be your man, and he wanted you to be his best girl.

“I wanna be yours,” you sighed as if you read his mind, his heart skipping a beat. “Can I be your girl?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes when he kissed the top of your head. “You can be my girl.”

And tomorrow once you were sober, he’d officially ask you to be his girl.

Happy Moanday, lovelies! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[munsonsmixtapes]

This could be just my hormones going insane but I just need a fix of Steve/eddie (or both) giving reader some loving cause all of her friends are having babies and she’s feeling a little bit frustrated it’s not happening with her. Either of the boys end up catching the vibes so they doo all they can to help our girl out and it sticks

What I would GIVE!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) grinding, breeding kink, creampie, mention of pregnancy, hurt/comfort, cockwarming

Having a baby isn’t something you’ve ever really thought about. Your life has always been so you haven’t really had the time, but as you’ve gotten older, you’ve begun to wonder if maybe you wouldn’t mind having a little one running around. You see the tiny little clothes when you’ve gone shopping and your heart bursts. At restaurants, you’ll see the cute little families and wonder what if that could be you?

Your baby fever get even worse when one of your close friends who just had her first child invites you over to meet him. The second she puts him in your arms and his tiny hand wraps around your finger, that's it. You just know you want one of your own. A little baby that you would raise until they eventually would venture out in the world on their own.

But that's all a pipe dream in your eyes. That would never happen for you because you’re single and sperm donors and adoptions can be tricky. So you're just stuck thinking about it for the rest of your life, just hoping, wishing that it'll miraculously happen.

You spend the whole drive home sobbing. You can barely even see through your tears, but you somehow make it home to your apartment that you share with your best friend, Steve. And for once, you hope he isn’t home, because there's no way you can tell him why you're crying. It'd be way too embarrassing.

So you wordlessly hurry to your room where you bury yourself under your covers as the sobs pour out of you. You feel so pathetic for crying about something like this, but you can't help it. It just hurts way more than it should.

There's a knock at the door and you're so glad that you locked it. You really can't talk to Steve right now. He just wouldn't understand. You know that he would be understanding and sympathetic like always, but this time, it would be even better if he was actually experiencing what you are.

"Hey, y/n," he says from the other side of the door and you can just imagine him with furrowed eyebrows, the look he always gets when he's upset. You know you've hurt his feeling by shutting him out, but this is for his own good. He doesn't want to have this awkward conversation with you. You're sure of it.

"I know you're upset about something so I uh, I made you that hot chocolate you like." He's so sweet that it makes your heart ache sometimes. What did you do to deserve a best friend like him?

You throw the covers off of you and make your way to the door. You unlock and open it to reveal Steve's sympathetic smile. He holds the mug out to you and you take it, taking a sip before heading back to your bed, Steve sitting next to you, but making sure to keep some space between the two of you.

Just like always, the silence isn't awkward between the two of you as you sip on your beverage and he just sits there. You set the mug on your desk then sit next to him again, this time to where your thighs are touching and you lean your head on his shoulder.

His arm wraps around your arm, his hand moving lazily up and down it as a way to comfort you. You can't help but let you mind wonder what it would be life if Steve was the father of your child. You're he'd be the perfect candidate, but you're sure that he'd think it was weird. His best friend wants to have a baby with him? That's definitely out of his comfort zone and you know it.

"You wanna tell me what's bothering you?" No fucking way. you're taking that shit to the grave. You've got to make something up, and fast.

"Just womanly stuff, you know how it is," you sniff, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks again. You do your best to try and pretend that your stomach is cramping and Steve is quick to pull you into his lap.

His rests is hands on the lower part of your stomach where he knows they get really bad and he begins to massage the area to relieve some of the pain. He always take sure good care of you and that's how you know that he would be a great dad.

You think about him doing the exact same thing when your stomach starts showing, talking to the baby and you suddenly feeling wet between your legs. You're staring to see Steve in a different way and you're not entirely sure how to feel about it.

"How does that feel?" He asks, looking down at you and suddenly, every single thought is replaced by your need to know what his lips feel like. They look like two pretty, pink pillows and you just can't stop staring.

“I’m not really cramping,” you tell him, feeling guilty that you lied to him. “I uh, I was actually upset because-well, because everyone around me is getting married and having children and I just-that’s what I want. I just want a family, Stevie.”

You look so heartbroken and Steve can see your eyes welling up again. He suddenly gets an idea, but he knows it’s crazy. When you mentioned having a family, clearly he wasn’t supposed to be in the picture. But now that it’s come to his mind, he can’t stop thinking about it.

He’d be honored to have a baby with you. He just knows you’d be an amazing mother, especially when he’s seen you with the kids in his family at different Harrington functions. Now that he’s thought of it, he can’t unsee it. Now he’s got to see it through. That is, if you agree. And why would you? The idea really isn’t something that he should be suggesting to his best friend, but what the hell?

“What if we had a baby?” He asks, his honey eyes boring into yours and you swear you just might melt. He’s so sweet sometimes that you don’t feel like you deserve him. He takes your silence as his answer and quickly tries to backtrack. “Just forget I said anything.”

“No, Steve,” you grab hold of his face in your hands, forcing him to look you in the eye. “I’d love to have a baby with you. Honored, actually.”

“You would?” His face lights up and you can’t help but laugh at how adorable he is.

“Yes,” you nod.

You move so that you’re straddling his lap while his hands rest on your waist. Shit, you’re really doing this and Steve can’t hide his excitement. This might be the smartest thing he’s ever done.

You make the first move, leaning down and bringing your face to his, slowly capturing his lips with yours. He's quick to respond, trying to match your pace as his lips move against yours. Yours are soft and he's convinced that this is the best kiss he's ever had. You know exactly what you're doing and he's just desperate for more.

Just as he melting into you, he feels you grinding against his crotch and he lets out a whine, already feeling himself getting hard. This has to be a record for sure. He lets you do what you want, loving everything you're doing so far.

His tongue slides into your mouth and he swears he's going to come just from hearing you. It's so hot and now that he's hearing it person and not on the other side of the wall when you pleasure yourself, he's sure it's even hotter because he's the cause of it.

“God, you’d look so pretty,” he sighs against your lips. “So fucking hot. And I’d praise you any chance I got.”

He’s saying all the right things and now you think you’re ready. You’ve-you’ve never done anything like this with Steve, but something about it feels so good, so right.

Your top comes off and it’s thrown to the side as Steve takes advantage of your now exposed skin. He kisses and nips at chest as you melt in his arms, mewling at every touch of his lips.

He slips the straps of your bra off of your shoulders and continues his kisses there, mixing in his lips with it as your hands grab hold of his biceps, digging your fingers into his skin.

“So fucking pretty,” he mumbles against your skin and you flush, feeling hot from both his compliments and his soft lips. “Now let me see you.” He unhooks your bra and pulls it away from your body to reveal your bare chest.

Your nipples are hard and Steve’s mouth waters as he thinks about how badly he wants them in his mouth. They’re practically begging for it as your back arches, moving your body from side to side, his gaze following you.

Without warning, Steve grabs hold of your waist and turns your bodies so your back is flat against your bed, him on top of you. He goes straight for your nipple, taking it into his mouth, giving it a hard suck as he pins your arms to the bed.

You gasp as the feeling and Steve continues, introducing his tongue as he licks and sucks on your nipple, one of his hands moving to massage the other one so it gets some attention as well.

Your back arches against his as a pretty moan falls from your lips and he takes that as an invitation to continue. He bites down hard and you mewl, your fingers gripping the bedding underneath you.

“That’s a pretty sound, baby,” he compliments as he pulls away for a split second. “Wanna make it again?”

“Please,” you whine and he goes in again with another as you let out another moan. Once you’ve reached your peak, he moves onto the other nipple, doing the exact same routine until you’re orgasming again, grabbing onto his shirt, trying to pull it off of him so you can proceed.

Steve’s shirt is off in an instant and he kisses his way down your torso slowly, giving your stomach special attention. He peppers it with kisses as he showers you with the sweetest words, wanting to make you feel special, to know that he really wants this and isn’t just doing it because he should.

“You’re gonna be such a great mother,” he starts off, pressing a kiss to the spot right above your belly button. “I’d be honored to raise a child with you.” Another kiss to the spot. “Fuck, I’m gonna love filling you,” is what he finishes off with before pressing a kiss to the spot right above your jeans. He then unbuttons them and you just now you’re a mess now, feeling your slick rolling down your legs.

Your jeans are off in an instant followed by your panties and Steve undressed himself before spreading your legs wide, lining himself up with you before slowly inserting himself. It’s a tight fit, but by the time he’s done with you, you’re going to be so loose.

His pace is slow as he takes his time, watching you so intently to make sure that you’re okay. You’re more than enjoying yourself, it seems as you moan and whine, your nails scratching down his back. Steve didn’t realize just how much he loves not using a condom, feeling every single part of you against him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he says as his thrusts pick up, moving even faster, inch by inch trying to get all of himself inside you.

“Haven’t done this in a while.” It’s at least been a couple of months.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll loosen you up in no time.” He’s pumping even harder and faster now, trying to get to a pace that the two of you will enjoy and continues at that pace as you respond positively.

“And look at that. You’re taking me so well.” He’s moving so fast now that the bed is squeaking underneath you, moving back and forth with every pump and you’re eating it up, needing feel all of him.

“More,” you whine and Steve just chuckles.

“Can’t go any faster than this.”

“No, Steve, more.” You grab hold of his hips and push him further inside you, bucking your hips against his so he gets the hint.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he winks. “Sure I’m not gonna hurt you?”

“I want you to. I just need to feel you. Want you to fill me.” You buck your hips again and again as the two of you work together, trying your best to get the other off.

He’s all the way inside you now and you can feel tears pricking your eyes as you can feel every single inch of him, so sure that he’s going to split you apart. Not that you mind. That would actually be the best way to go of you’re being honest.

“Taking me so well. Look at you, so close to coming. I can see it. Fuck, you’re beautiful. Gonna look even more beautiful with my baby. Gonna-“ his words are cut off as he reaches his own orgasm. He releases inside you and you watch him come undone, curling his head towards his chest as his eyes shut tight. His fingers are digging into your waist and you push his hair away from his sweaty face as he’s coming down.

He’s got just enough energy for little more. Just enough to get you there. He’s moving as hard and fast as he can, watching you come undone underneath him. You’re so pretty, the perfect mother for his child.

As soon as your orgasm is over, Steve lowers himself down onto, not even bothering to pull out because he just wants to be this close to you for a little longer. His lips find yours in a gentle kiss before he lays his head on your chest, your fingers running through his hair.

You spend the rest of the night like that before cuddling up in your bed, the two of you discussing baby names, deciding that neither of you care whether it’s a boy or girl.

Nine months later, you welcome your baby girl into the world. Steve is right by your side the entire delivery and seeing you hold her for the first time, he’s sure that you’re going to be an amazing mother and he’s so excited to navigate parenting with you.

[esamastation]

Here's the prologue of what I'm currently writing which I'm calling

Gamer girl gets transmigrated into a farm boy

-

If you could choose a world to be isekaied into, you probably wouldn't choose the videogame Age of Tales. It's not that it's too dark or gritty or dangerous, quite the opposite. Age of Tales is boring.

It's a painfully generic mediaeval RPG with a very generic "farm boy becomes a hero" storyline. Or farmgirl, if you go that route. There's some moral choices, but overall the story is very linear from start to finish, and no matter how evil you try to play it, the game inevitably ends with the chosen farmboy (or girl) saving the world. Age of Tales has a very generic cast of characters with very generic backstories, even more generic villains with very basic evil plots, and side quests right out of early free to play mmorpgs. Overall the game is just very… mid.

It flopped within a week of being launched, deservedly so. It landed without a splash and was forgotten within the month, and its only saving grace was that at least it wasn't a live service and as such didn't have to go through the indignity of being shut down on top of being a failure. All in all, the game was a massive flop.

And Katie had sunk nearly six hundred hours into it. 

She would have explained the appeal, if she knew what it was. The weirdly cosy art design in a game where you eventually end up leading armies in hopeless battles? The character creator that let her create a beautiful two meter hundred kilo blue-eyed wall of muscle as her player character? The weird charm of 80' and 90's fantasy novels, as depicted by the game's story? The glitch that let her literally duplicate gold bars in the tutorial section? The way you can trip the big bad down a staircase if you just happen to fill the boss arena with chairs, benches and barrels?

Katie has hundred percented the game twice, found all known Easter eggs and best glitches, and she still couldn't say why she loved it so much. Why, even as Valthor the Vile generically monologues about how he would fill the world with darkness before the final boss fight, she's already planning to play the game again from the start.

Van the Valorous - as her character this time is called - met the big bad with a big sword in one hand and tall shield in the other, his build a pitch perfect Paladin this time. Katie has played through the final battle so many times that she knows all of Valthor's moves, and Van is fully leveled at 120, so the battle isn't exactly a challenge. She spends most of it admiring the battle arena and Valthor's design. He's a classic long-haired pretty boy, with a rapier and elaborate long coat with enormous shoulders. 

Valthor takes the coat off for the final phase of the battle, which Katie had always rather appreciated. She usually takes the opportunity to take Van's clothes off for the final round too, just for the aesthetic. It's not like Van needs the defence offered by clothing at that point anyway. 

"So this is what you have chosen," Valthor says on the screen. "These people, with their puny concerns and petty squabbles. You, who like me, could've been a God!"

Katie is offered a final choice of dialogue. "You are no God, Valthor - a devil, at most," Van says and points his sword at Valthor. "And your evil reign ends now!"

"Fine. Let's end it," Valthor answers, and off goes the coat in a completely unnecessary bit of theatrical dramatics. "Have at thee!"

Katie sighs fondly, a smile stretched wide on her face as she plays through the final disappointing mini game of quicktime prompts while on her screen two shirtless men slash bloodlessly at each other.

Valthor loses and falls down. "I had… such plans," he rasps, reaching towards Van. "I was going to bring peace…and prosperity…"

"And yet you brought only war and devastation," Van says and kneels beside his fallen enemy - now, mysteriously, clothed again in his armour and cape. "Your reign is over, Valthor. It's over."

"So it is," Valthor sighs and lets his head fall to the floor. "I wonder… What kind of reign will yours be… oh Valorous one…"

And so Valthor dies and the game ends with the victorious player character walking determinately towards the camera with cape billowing behind them in the most dissatisfying sequel bait ending Katie has ever seen. It's supposed to imply what happens next, how the player character, now a General and Saviour, would probably go on to take charge of the land left behind by Valthor or whatever. 

Of course, the game never got a sequel, but there's something endearing about how hopeful they were, making an ending like that. The developers really thought they did something there.

"Ten out of ten, premium trash," Katie sighs with pleasure. "Would not recommend to anyone - except me."

She skips through the final credits and back to the starting screen, intending to start a new game. Maybe this time she'd make Van look older - a huge grizzled old man playing the part of an innocent farm boy should be hilarious.

She stops before hitting [New Game], because the starting screen has changed. There's a new option there, one she's never seen before. 

[New Game∞]

"What? I didn't know there was a New Game+," Katie mutters, confused. "Where was this the other times I finished the game, huh?" And why'd they use the infinity sign? Another of Age of Tales' weirdnesses?

Not sure if it would actually be any fun to play the game with a New Game+ but curious about what would actually transfer over with the save, Katie selects the [New Game∞]...

And is promptly sucked into her TV.

-

[Chapter 1>>]

-

Since some people were expressing interest, lmao. Still on a litrpg kick, pretty much everything I've tried to write lately has been litrpg. This one I'm more hopeful than the rest though. It has actual characters and stuff. Edit: replaced with version proofread by @nimadge, many thanks.

[fictionalsweethearts]

A CHILD FOR ZAUN | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

Synopsis: Under pressure from the Council and with a heavy responsibility on her shoulders, Sevika decides to have a child with her wife to show her commitment with the cause. However, indirect methods are too risky and she ends up choosing the traditional way, being an equal part spectator and participant.

Contains: mention of pregnancy, threesome, male participation, voyeurism, breeding kink, wife!Sevika, dirty talking, jealousy (I could keep going).

MINORS DNI

Note: Alright, so this is some kinky ass shit, I admit, so if you're not into male participation you can enjoy my other works on my masterlist. If you're staying... enjoy.

“A child?” Sevika asked, her eyebrows knitting together at Shoola’s sudden proposition. The councilor had waited until the session had adjourned and the rest of the councilors had left to discuss this with Sevika.

The work at the council seemed endless; since the war with Noxus and all the havoc it caused—from half of Piltover in ruins, to hundreds of casualties, widowed wives an husbands, orphaned children, and protests and riots on the bridge due to Zaun’s refusal to actively collaborate with the other side of the bridge—Sevika had barely had time to make amends and command a plan of action to favor Zaun in this whole mess. She was chosen by her people to represent a city whose fate hung in the balance. There were internal disputes, the districts seemed to want to take sides in the war and attack Piltover now that it has weakened, but Sevika knew that this would cost her authority and the promise to finally include Zaun in the Council's plans and stop being marginalized from public discussion. There were sessions and sessions of disputes and long speeches, where Sevika was ignored or the problems she brought up were disregarded by the rest of the members; by everyone of course, except for Shoola and Caitlyn. Both knew the importance of including Zaun, of making its needs known, even if in the past Sevika had been the enemy, or vice versa.

"A child," Shoola insisted, professional as ever. "You're in a difficult position, you don't yet have the trust nor approval of the rest of the Council. They don't know who they're dealing with."

"How a child would make them see me differently?" Inquired Sevika, both hands on the table before her.

"You must understand that you are rare case by being on the Council and being a Zaunite," Shoola explained. "In the eyes of the others, you are still a threat. The others do not trust you to have a say in matters on this side of the bridge, because they do not know what you are putting at stake."

Sevika clenched her jaw. She was a Zaunite at Piltover's council table, a fish out of water in a world of politics and alliances.

"My loyalty lies with my city, not this side of the bridge."

"Your loyalty will bear no fruit if you are not listened to. You must prove that you are not a mere visitor, Sevika. Committing to the cause means having something to risk."

"And what do you suggest, Shoola? A Zaunite child to hold as a bargaining chip? A token that ensures our cooperation?"

"Not a token, but a proof. A proof that you're not just advocating for your own interests..." she said, her tone growing more serious. "But for those of someone you care about, and the Council can see that you do so."

"Isn't the whole city of Zaun proof enough?" She inquired.

"It's about making yourself seen, Sevika," Shoola insisted. "The rest of the Councillors have entire nations behind them; children, parents, countrymen, enemies and allies. Yet you show up here without the full backing of your people, only a small portion who are not related to you in any way other than mere conviction and ideology."

Sevika looked away, Shoola's speech seemwd to acquire more sense with every word. "Besides... a child of your own will keep you grounded, it's a reminder of why you're here and what you're fighting for." She added.

Sevika knew Shoola had a point, no matter how much she hated to admit it. She was a lone wolf in a pack of powerful families and nations, at a disadvantage before an entire lineage of renowned nobles and politicians.

"I understand the need for solidarity," she said through gritted teeth. "But a child isn't a toy to be used for political gain. I won't endanger a child just to prove a point."

Shoola's expression softened, she interlaced her fingers. "It's a necessary decision, Sevika; causes require sacrifices," she said. "There are children waiting for a change there, using one could help dozens, hundreds. You can't keep arguing with a wall."

Sevika stood there in tense silence for a long moment after Shoola left. The room felt more empty than ever. Her mind raced with the idea of being responsible for a child, of being held accountable for their well-being. With a frustrated growl, she slammed her fist down hard onto the table, the sound of her prosthetic arm hitting the wooden top echoed in the room.

"How long am I gonna fight against this?"

┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈

"Margot won't allow it." Mumbled Sevika under her breath, letting out a heavy sigh.

Sevika took another drink, stamping the glass on the desk before looking back at the map hanging on the wall. She had been in a resounding silence for twenty minutes, interrupted by her own murmurs and growls. The plan to reduce the coverage of the red light district to favor the construction of hospitals seemed more like a fantasy than a plan, taking into account the powerful influence that brothels and sexual services had in Zaun. Sevika knew that truncating that specific area would be liquidating much of the city's income; she herself, when she used to be a regular customer, could realize how essential the business was.

Suddenly, a couple of arms wrapped around her chest, the softness of your cheek against her back and your smell interrupting Sevika's thoughts.

"You're going to pierce the map if you stare at it for so long, wifey." You purred.

Unconsciously, Sevika's shoulders relaxed as she heard your voice behind her. "It's called strategizing." she said with a half smile.

"What's the deal this time?" You inquired, peeking from your wife's wide back to take a look of the map too.

Sevika's grip on the edge of the desk tightened as her gaze traveled over the map pinned to the wall. She seemed to be studying the layout, her mind working through the challenges and options.

"The Rapturewalk," she replied. "It's becoming problematic. Profits are up, but the city needs hospitals, not more entertainment venues."

"Margot won't allow it." You said, just like Sevika thought before.

She sighed loudly. "I know. But the needs of Zaun are not being met. We're prioritizing profit over basic necessities. People are suffering while Margot makes money."

You ran your hands over her shoulders, your eyes sharpening at the markings on the map before you. "Keeping Rapturewalk is your best card, actually."

"How so?"

"It's a constant and safe source of income, after Shimmer's factories." You argued, crossing your arms as you looked at the map. "Let's say that whores are the economic basis of Zaun, whether you like it or not. And the best way to generate reserves to allocate them to other projects is to take advantage of the profits of the red light district."

It was not the first time you had helped Sevika to unravel a problem of this nature. She used to pay attention to your judgment as much as the councilmen's and she trusted your vision as much as her own.

Between pouts, jokes and a kiss on her cheek, you proposed possible solutions. Sevika responded with a grunt, dragging on her cigarette before looking at the map again. "I've only been on the Council for three months… and I'm going crazy already."

"Take the mining and taxes thing as advice only," you said. "I'm just the wife, the final decision is up to you."

"Don't say that." she said firmly, walking up to you and gently grasping your arm. "You're my partner, in every sense of the word." she stated, placing a kiss on your forehead.

And the truth is that your role in Sevika's life was not limited to just being a wife. From the beginning you were a pillar for her when she didn't believe in pillars or in the need to seek support from other people, you showed her that asking for help was not a sign of weakness but of strength, although to this day it was still a bad habit of hers to swallow her problems until she vomited them out between complaints and a few days of drunkenness. That night was no exception, and as soon as you moved away from her, you noticed her staring at your abdomen longer than usual.

"Is something wrong?" you asked.

"No, nothing's wrong." she grunted, knowing she was lying.

"You sure?"

Sevika remained silent for a moment, her tone sobering. "How does children sound to you?"

You seemed speechless for a moment.

You raised your eyebrows and a flash of excitement crossed your face before you turned serious. “Sounds like something we never considered possible…”

"I know we've never discussed it. But the thought has crossed my mind a few times... I never thought it would be an option, given our circumstances. But then again, I never thought we could have a life together in a room above a poker den either."

"I, uh..." you stuttered. "It's a sort of fantasy of mine, actually." you admitted. "You always said you weren't interested in children, and I respect it."

"Well, things has changed, haven't they?" Sevika took a step closer. "We've changed."

But something wasn't fitting, and you sensed it. "Sev. Why are you suggesting this all of sudden?"

She took a deep breath, her hand dropping back to her side.

"The Council has been... making suggestions," she said. "They think it would be a... symbolic gesture. A way to bridge the gap between Zaun and Piltover."

And all clicked.

"So you want a heir, not a son." you stated.

"No, I want what's best for Zaun. And if having a child serves a greater purpose, then that's what I must do."

"A child for a purpose? A symbol." you spat, crossing your arms as the anger began blooming. "Are you trying to please those snobs? Who made you think a heir would change their vision towards you, or towards Zaun?"

"It's about making them respect us. Showing them that Zaun can play the game they set and still come out on top. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good."

"Haven't you done enough sacrifices?" you insisted. "Following Vander, then Silco's cause, then Jinx. You've sacrificed what you are every damn time and they still believe it's not enough?"

"What choice do I have?" she snapped back. "If I don't show them, if I don't do something significant, they'll continue to disregard Zaun."

"And using a child is the proper way to earn approval?"

"Babe, it's about respect!" she snapped at you, followed by a sigh when she noticed you flinched.

Silence, thick as fog, settled in the room. Sevika looked not only exhausted, but hopeless. She was making drastic decisions and she knew it. "Love… I don't expect your approval in this, just your support."

You reached out, cupping her cheek as she looked into your eyes, speaking with them. You couldn't stand against that look, you never could. "I'll think about it." you whispered. "But I want you to understand that if we have a child, I will treat him as a son first and as a political tool second."

"I understand." she nodded. "I swear I do."

As the days went by, while the Council gave no respite and neither did Zaun, Sevika planted the seed of a child in your mind frequently. She would talk to you about adoption processes when you were cooking, accompanied by a well-placed caress on your back and a kiss on your neck, and then, after making love, she would talk to you about the possibilities of testing fertilization in a laboratory. Usually you limited yourself to nodding or emitting an "mhm", still questioning the changes that a child would mean, not only as a political symbol, but as an addition to the family.

Sevika would be a good mother, no doubt. She took care of Isha for a whole month without even mentioning she cared for her, but she still came to Jinx's lair with treats and toys or gadgets that she bought at the market. She asked you to cook an extra portion for dinner and whenever you asked her why, it was because "she got hungrier lately", knowing well that it was for Isha. And when she finally admitted her affection towards the blue-haired girl, she passed away.

Sevika remained strong for Jinx and for herself, but you found her asleep in the bathtub the day she found out, her eyes swollen and stinking to whiskey.

"I loved that kid," she admitted later, once you were able to get her out of the tub. "Why is everything dying around me, babe?"

That day you promised yourself to be Sevika's anchor, and bring more joy than worries to her life.

“Baby?” you whispered after Sevika turned around. “Do you think we could visit that doctor you mentioned the other day?”

"Dr. Allard? Yeah, we can. Why?"

"We could ask for advice... about the fertilization process."

Sevika rolled over, her eyes pierced into yours. "Do you wanna... try?"

"Yes, I-" you said before Sevika swallowed your words with a kiss.

And she kissed you later that day, as you two waited for the test results. Fertilization using hextech was still in the experimental phase and was certainly based more on theories than successful cases, but you still hoped you were a suitable candidate for the procedure. Sevika held your hand as the doctor entered, her solemn face not indicating good news.

"The preliminary tests show that your body's response to the hextech fertilization process is not as strong as we would have expected. The success rates will be much lower than we had originally suggested..."

It was the formal way of announcing that achieving a baby by that means was not feasible. And Sevika read your disappointed expression while the woman continued explaining technical details that you stopped listening to. Your wife squeezed your hand and wiped the hint of a tear from your eye. "We'll find a way."

And frustration was beginning to overwhelm you and Sevika. You drank at breakfast and dinner, ruminating on the possibilities and pressuring the Zaun orphanage just to find out there wasn't a goddamn orphanage in the first place. A month of arguments, tears and breakdowns went by. The Council gave no respite, Sevika was on the verge of collapse balanced by two cities that refused to cooperate, drowning her anguish in whiskey and smoking her worries, sleeping barely a few hours and giving up her intimacy and quality time with you. You watched Sevika fall into a cycle of slavering work from which you could not get her out until you found her unconscious in the living room, passed out from exhaustion and alcohol.

And that was the last straw.

"I'll look for candidates," you said in bed, after having fed Sevika a substantial dinner and a spoonful of Shimmer. "You can choose the one you like the most."

"And if I say no?" she dared to argue.

"Then you'll quit the Council."

She was silent for a moment, too weak to argue and too tired to find another solution. She couldn't believe she would consent this.

"Fine," she said grudgingly. "You can look."

It took you no more than a week, spreading out a series of files on the living room table and asking Sevika to study each one carefully. The process took barely an hour.

"This one," she said finally, laying the sheet on the table. "It's the most suitable.

You kind of expected it, Misk. A thirty-three-year-old Zaunite in impeccable health; a rarity in a city like ours. He was an athletic man who was both handsome and noble. He was known to run a humanitarian business, providing beds, food, education, and health. A true symbol of the spark of humanity struggling to survive in the city and an indirect ally of Sevika, if she could put it that way. The file was accompanied by a photo of the man in question. He had tanned skin, pale, slanted eyes, a straight nose, and generous lips. His black hair, usually tied back in a half ponytail, was dazzling with silvery glints and vitiligo had paled half of his face, spreading across his left arm and left pectoral. You knew Sevika had chosen him for his unusual features, she had a thing for Zaun's genetic diversity.

"Did you find him handsome?" you dared to tease her.

"Qualified." grunted Sevika. "I could never call a man handsome."

┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈

"I won't repeat myself," Sevika said firmly. "We bought your silence, you keep your mouth shut. Whatever happens in this room, stays in this room."

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, an olive-colored robe as your only garment, your hair loose and your skin soft and smooth from the scented bath you took earlier. The room smelled of floral, penetrating honey, while the lights were dim and invited to retreat and intimacy.

You had prepared the room in advance for the special night; cigars lay on the coffee table in front of the wide bed with silky damask sheets. Three glasses of whiskey with ice, a jug of water, poppy oil beside the bed, aromatic herbs hung from the ceiling and a series of candles spread across the furniture and the windowsill, through which the silver bath of moonlight filtered in. You looked at Sevika, clad in a wine-colored kimono, revealing a glimpse of her bare chest and long, shapely legs. Her hair loose and her mechanical arm gleaming with Shimmer. Certainly her feminine energy was taking more prominence tonight, and you couldn't help but finding her even more beautiful.

Sitting on the couch, Misk watched Sevika intently, sipping whiskey and taking orders with the abnegation of a soldier. He had a robe on and his hair tied in a ponytail. He was more handsome in person and when Sevika first watched him walk in, she let out a chuckle. "He looks like a puppy."

"Sevika."

"He'll act like a puppy, alright."

Misk greeted you and your wife cordially, acknowledging the reasons why he was there and taking a seat on the sofa.

"This is not about your pleasure, but about the purpose. You will do as I say." continued Sevika. "You will touch my wife only when I allow it, and you will not speak unless spoken to. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"C'mere." she commanded, watching Misk stand up and come closer.

Sevika wrinkled her nose, blowing smoke into Misk's face as she studied his bearing, his face, and his scent. She parted his lips with her fingers, taking a look of his teeth and then his eyeballs, looking for any indication that would cast doubt on his medical certificate. He smelled healthy. "You're in good shape," she said, cupping the young man's jaw to look at his angles as if he was a rare animal.

Certainly for Sevika he was, she only adresses men for gambling, business or brawls. The sole thought of sharing a bed with him was uncanny still. "My wife chose well."

She ran her hand down his throat, feeling his pulse, which felt strong and steady. "Have you been in a threesome before, young man?" inquired Sevika with a dark grin.

"I have." nodded Misk.

"Good, I'm not into teaching men what they have to do." said Sevika, letting his throat go. "No funny business or I'll rip your cock off."

"Sevi." you protested from the bed.

Sevika grinned, her eyes flickering to you. "My wife seems to have a soft spot for you," she said. "Don't push your luck, then."

Misk nodded, his expression serious. "I understand."

"You're scaring him, babe." you insisted.

"He has no reason to be scared," she said shortly. "If he behaves, he'll be rewarded. If he doesn't, he'll remember it for a long time. He also signed a contract, remember? He knows what's he getting into."

Just then, Sevika seemed convinced enought to start.

“Take a seat and watch,” Sevika ordered, leaning over to stub out her cigarette in the ashtray. “You’ll join when I say so.”

You stood up, ready and eager as Sevika approached you with confident steps. She caressed your cheek. "Are you sure you're okay with him watching?" you whispered softly. "He can enter later."

"Let him stay. He can learn a thing ot two."

┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈

You squeezed your tits between your fingers, Sevika gave you a slow and methodical oral, she ate you out with all her heart and her whole face, diving between your legs and moaning against your pussy. She took all the time in the world on it, making you shudder and whimper for relief, only for your wife to straddle you on her thigh and order you to ride her as soon as you reached your first orgasm. You refused her nothing, even when Misk was on the couch watching everything and made you shy for a moment. But Sevika gave two shits about his presence, urgently kissing your mouth, whispering obscenities that only she was capable of saying and pinching your nipples between her fingers.

Misk realized that he was in front of an experienced couple, totally in tune.

"Don't look at him," she murmured. "Eyes on me, baby. I'm the one you're riding right now."

Sevika kissed you hard, filling all your senses so that you wouldn't even consider looking at a man while you were with her. She didn't take pleasure in letting a man possess you, not now or ever, but she couldn't deny that she was attracted to your pitiful moans and the way your lips would part when Misk fucked you. Sevika knew that this encounter wasn't just for a particular purpose, it was pleasurable in equal parts and she was certainly spoiling you by consenting to it.

"Admit it." whispered Sevika. "Admit that you're dying for him to fuck you. That you're dying to be the center of attention."

"No, Sev..." you whimpered.

Sevika grabbed your throat and looked into your eyes. "You're an attention seeker, even in three years of marriage that hasn't changed. And I love how desperate you are."

"Ah." that's all you could do, pant. "Ah, ah..." and your eyes softened before Sevika let your throat go and you cried your orgasm out.

You fell on top of her. Sevika cupped your neck with a tenderness she only stored for you and placed a kiss on the top of your head. "You're not allowed to be tired," she whispered to you. "Misk is still watching."

You asked for water, Misk was the one who handed you the glass and while you drank, Sevika drew circles on your back. She looked at Misk with analytical, wary eyes, knowing that the unpostponable could not be postponed.

With a kiss on the top of your head, she made you descend from her lap and wait on the bed, still a little shaken by the two previous orgasms. Misk remained in place, Sevika reached for a cigarette on the coffee table and lit it solemnly.

"Misk." she said. "Take good care of her."

You swallowed, still not believing that Sevika was giving you over to a man. A rush of adrenaline and anticipation ran through your body when Misk nodded, looking at you lying on the bed. You stood up, bare and glowing still, allowing him to come closer.

"Can I…?" he asked, clearly afraid of angering Sevika with the slightest contact on your body.

"Yes." you whispered, allowing him to wrap his hands around your waist and kiss you.

Sevika drowned her jealousy in her cigarette, watching as Misk laid you down on the bed and ventured into your skin, your breasts and your abdomen. His touch was gentle, you appreciated it since your wife had left you quite sensitive after her intervention, but you couldn't stop looking at her while he rubbed you between your legs.

You needed her close, not to be removed from the equation.

Sevika read your thoughts clearly, sitting on the couch, the tip of her cigarette glowing with each drag before she placed it on the ashtray. “Stand up,” she ordered, to which Misk seemed to back away. “I didn’t say you were leaving.”

Misk seemed to understand, allowing Sevika to position herself behind you, cupping your breasts in both hands as she began to kiss your neck. You greeted Misk with another long kiss, feeling more secure with your wife’s close supervision. Only then you moaned opnely with pleasure, parting your legs so Misk could once again rub a sensitive but so wet pussy that it left his fingers with a wet sheen.

With your wife's intervention, the evening flowed (very) well. You were already sitting on the bed, leaning against your wife's chest who was already easing a couple of fingers in you, while Misk was busy pleasing your nipples with his tongue. You moaned, looking at your wife and giving her a short kiss before looking at Misk again. The man seemed engrossed in his task, his robe sliding enought to reveal his chest and the paleness of the vitiligo. You thought he was handsome, an ideal candidate for a beautiful baby.

However, you didn't allow yourself to look at him for too long, knowing that provoking Sevika's jealousy would probably end with a dead man in the room.

"I wanna eat you out." you whined then, cupping your wife's cheek.

"Aren't you busy enough?" she teased.

"Please..."

Sevika wasn't going to deny you anything either, she loved to indulge you in everything. Not in vain she was allowing a man on her bed. Still, she hadn't pay attention to him, much less touched him; he was there as a mere tool, she insisted. Sevika tangled her fingers in your hair, her palm firm on the back of your neck as she watched you trail kisses from her chest to her pubis. She hissed, Misk kneeling behind you and kissing your spine slowly. She felt the urge to break his nose with a punch, but you kept her busy with your mouth between her legs.

“Fuck.” She growled, looking at you. “If it wasn’t for you…” she added in a whisper.

"Mhm." you moaned, venturing to ease a finger into her. And Sevika's anger was soon replaced by a stronger feeling.

You gasped, noticing the presence of his phallus, hard and wet against your entrance. Your body bristled in anticipation, believing yourself ready to receive Misk. Sevika frowned, her hand between your locks clenching tightly. Her blood boiled.

"You hurt her and I swear I'll rip your cock off," she threatened, not caring if she was ruining the mood or not. She only cared to know that her wife was willing to continue.

"It's fine." you purred, pulling back to look at Sevika. "I'm... I'm ready."

Your hands on either side of her hips, you watched Sevika the entire time. You didn’t look away from her grey eyes, not when Misk rubbed against you, not when you arched your back to allow him in. Sevika sucked in a breath between her teeth, holding your chin when your lips parted in a shaky moan.

“Fuck.” you breathed out, kissing your wife as Misk buried himself in you.

And you were embarrassed by how fucking horny you were.

You didn't know how to put your pleasure into anything but moans, words fell short. The feeling of kissing your wife, her hand around your throat while you were being fucked was delicious. Being the center of attention turned you on like nothing else, the moans, the grunts, the obscenities that reached your ears and made you smile. You soon agreed with what Sevika had said before; you love attention. The clash of skin on skin filled the room, Misk held your waist and squeezed your skin while Sevika caressed your lower lip, watching you, almost admiring you.

"Seems you're having fun." she said against your mouth. "Breaking into moans for a man, aren't you ashamed?"

"So ashamed." you whined before Misk leaned to place a kiss on your shoulder and you read Sevika's jealousy in her eyes. "But you love watching."

"I love you." she whispered, only your ears catching such strong phrase.

You lost count of how many times you gasped, or how many times Misk made you shiver with a precise thrust. Your wife watched everything, absolutely everything, scolded and admired you in equal parts, finished smoking her cigarette and gave you a tobacco-flavored kiss before forcing you upright.

"You're already all wasted, I thought I taught you better than that." she said, gripping your chin as your eyes fluttered with exhaustation. Misk had a firm hand on your shoulder, making slower but deeper thrusts. You felt him fill you again and again, causing a slight numbing sensation in your pussy.

You were reaching your limit.

Misk let out a groan, his breathing becoming irregular and noisy. "I take this is how men let you know they're about to cum?" asked Sevika with a raised eyebrow.

"Sev." you whimpered. "I'm..."

You didn't know if you were about to cum or faint, whichever came first, but it worried Sevika. You weren't used to this amount of stimulation and Misk seemed insatiably focused on his task. It was then that Sevika kissed you and left the bed. Your chest hit the mattress, Misk growled against your ear and his hips moved incessantly, to the point that you felt imprisoned by his body. You wanted to cry, it was an unknown pleasure and your body gave signs of wanting to give up.

Until you felt it, like a warm, wet torrent that made its way inside you and filled your insides. It was then that you stifled a cry into the pillow, Misk didn't seem to stop.

"I told you to take care of her, son of a bitch," Sevika said.

Misk stopped dead at the cold touch of a cannon against his temple. "You get away from her right now or I'll shoot you in the balls, you hear?"

You didn't see Misk leave the room, but you heard him. You were lying on that bed, your legs shaking, a thread of his seed seeping between your legs. Until Sevika made you close them.

"Relax, it's all over now…" your wife whispered, sitting next to you and placing a kiss on your shoulder. "I shouldn't have agreed to this in the first place."

"I'm fine…" you murmured. Exhausted and sore, you couldn't deny that you'd never felt this pleased in bed. It wasn't Misk the important addition, it was the dynamic of being watched by your wife and realizing the desire that prevailed in her gaze.

Well, desire until she seemed to kill Misk at the last minute very appealing.

"Keep them closed, sweetheart. I won't let this happen again, either you get pregnant or I set the Council on fire. You won't go through this again."

You looked up, glancing at Sevika beside you on the bed. She covered you with her kimono, tracing circles on your lower back before frowning. “Tell me the truth.”

“Mhm?”

“You fancy Misk, don’t you?”

“You already said it, Sev. It’s suitable, but I don’t like him.” you smiled despite your exhaustion, leaning over to place a hand on your wife’s knee. “I just want to give you a child, Sevika. I want to be and make you a mother.”

“You’ll look beautiful pregnant.” Sevika whispered. "So damn beautiful, round and glowing. I wonder how I got myself such gorgeous wife."

"I wonder the same..." you smiled and Sevika leaned down to give you a kiss before patting your bottom lovingly.

“I’ll run you a bath and dinner, okay? Get some rest.”

You nodded, rolling over to lean back on the soft pillows of your bed as you watched Sevika get dressed.

"Are you gonna kill him?" you asked after a moment.

"I wanted to." she admitted. "But I have too many things to attend to add murder to the list. As long as he doesn't cross my path on the street, I won't try anything."

"Okay..." you mumbled, watching Sevika leave the room. "Love you."

"Love you more."

You sighed, tired and sore, barely processing the situation that took place in that same bed you were laying on. You had never been in a threesome, and it was a good but unrepeatable experience. You stared at the ceiling for a moment, wishing with all your might that this method would work and that you could have a child for Zaun.

But above all, a child for your wife Sevika.

[agathasfamiliar]

hi!! I just found your blog, can I request g!p detective!agatha railing reader in a missionary position and has a bulge kink (poking the bear🤭🏃‍♀️)

thank you so much for this request it was very fun to write, i hope you enjoy it!

fuck the police:

detective agnes o'connor x fem!reader

You fucked up and finally got caught for your long-running streak of graffiti artistry. What's worse than being arrested, however? Being interrogated by the one detective in town who causes you to question your all out hatred for the profession.

word count: 6.2k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, agnes is trans/intersex/has a penis, penis in vagina sex, power bottom!reader, service top!agnes (but agnes still needs a little control of course), handcuffs, breeding kink, bulge kink, agnes loves reader's tits, smut

author's note: trans butch agnes, my beloved. also i probably could've done more research into a more realistic set up/i know this isn't how someone being arrested/interrogated would work but it's porn so...hopefully you can look past that

You never thought you’d find yourself here, arrested and waiting to be questioned for your crimes. Perhaps you should’ve seen it coming, your graffiti art has steadily risen in popularity over the last few months, ever since one particularly evocative piece got featured on the local news and allegedly inspired a number of protests throughout the city of Westview.

Not that you had anything to do with that.

The police department has issued several requests for information on you, even offering a pretty handsome reward for the proven identity of “Hex”, the name you tag every piece with. A rumor has even reached your ears about a copycat artist getting arrested over in Eastview. Serves them right for using your signature, but it at least has kept the feds off your trail for a bit. 

Admittedly, you’d gotten cocky thinking you could get away with tagging the squad car stationed at the busiest intersection in town. In your defense, it had looked empty. How were you supposed to know the deputy on duty was napping in the back seat? You’d made it halfway through the looping pink pig face you were sprawling across the windshield before he woke up and chased you down four blocks.

If you were wearing your usual running shoes instead of having slipped on an old pair of slides in your rush out of the house, you probably would’ve outrun the middle-aged cop chasing you, another mistake you won’t make again.

  Now, you sit shivering in nothing but a sheer white tank top and sweatpants so spattered in all the vibrant colors of your, now confiscated, cans of spray paint, that you can’t even remember what color the pants originally were. You weren’t an idiot, you had a black hoodie on when you went out to do your work, but the rookie cop that booked you at the station also insisted on taking your sweatshirt for “evidence”.

You’re pretty sure he just wanted to see you suffer in the refrigerator-like temperature they keep the precinct at, clearly only recently having graduated the academy and already taking a shine to abusing his power. Pigs, indeed. 

The interrogation room they brought you to well over 30 minutes ago sits at the very back of the building, a windowless box that somehow looks and smells both musty and sterile. A large one-way mirror covers the wall opposite the door, the only noise in the confined space being the tick-tick-tick of the clock above it that reads just past midnight.

You rattle the short chain connecting your handcuffed wrists to a bar on the heavy metal table in front of you, just to disrupt the suffocating silence. Have you seriously been forgotten here?

Just as you have that thought, as if summoning another person into existence with it, the door, opposite the corner where you sit, opens briskly. 

Twin sighs of irritation drop from both your mouth and the supposed detective’s as she enters. You can’t make out too many details of her appearance at first because of the dim lighting that mostly just illuminates the table you sit at, as well as the fact that she has her head down looking over what you assume is your intake forms. 

“I want a lawyer.” Are the first words out of your mouth once the woman has turned to shut the door behind her.

“Ha!” She laughs dryly and it has you simmering with rage already, but something about it also sounds familiar.

 “Well, sweetie,” The still concealed detective continues as she finally steps into the light, “not likely to find a public defender that’s available at this hour, but if you insist on staying overnight…” She trails off amusedly, finally stepping into the light and causing your prepared reply to die in your throat as you connect the recognition of the voice with the blue eyes that meet yours.

“Detective O’Connor.” You greet, trying to keep your tone even. 

Fuck.

Of fucking course, of all the detectives in the goddamn city, this is who had to come question you. The same detective you’ve served coffee to every morning for the better part of three years at your shitty cafe day job. The same detective who barely acknowledges your existence, but when her fingers brush yours as you pass her usual over the counter, you think about it for the rest of the day. The detective you berate yourself for fantasizing about, because she’s everything you despise and your friends would never let you hear the end of it if they found out, especially with how often you’re spouting your “radical” political beliefs (not that you see them that way.)

Detective Agnes fucking O’Connor…

This is not how you imagined it would look if you ever got her in a room alone.

“Huh? Do I know you?” She questions, almost offended, and now you’re the one to let out a dry laugh.

“Here, let me help jog your memory.” You say, picking up the small, paper cup of water that had been left on the table for you in one bound hand, holding it aloft and reciting her order.

 “One large hot coffee with two sugars and half a pump of vanilla.”

She looks unaffected at your display, only raising both eyebrows once in sudden recognition before sauntering over to the chair on the other side of the table and sitting down casually. 

“Impressive, that how you’ve avoided custody so long? Charming Westview’s finest by memorizing their coffee orders?” Her questions are laced with condescension.

“Nope, just yours. Why? Is it working?” You smirk despite your better judgment. You hadn’t planned to try the flirting route to get out your charges, but hey, the best schemes have an element of truth to them. Plus, if this is the only chase you’ll have to speak to the detective alone, you might as well make the most of it. 

She doesn’t answer, instead leaning back in the rickety metal chair that lets out a squeal at the motion. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail that’s tied low at the base of her skull. Blue flannel sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and it’s all you can do not to think about tracing your tongue over the veins that snake over her strong forearms.

The jeans she’s wearing strain with the way she sits, legs spread apart, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from letting out a gasp when you notice how it puts the delicious outline of what’s beneath the denim on display. Fuck, you do not need to be thinking about straddling the woman where she sits and grinding down against her bulge right now, but you are anyway.

Mercifully, she leans forward again in the seat to ask another question and the view is gone. You need to focus if you’re going to get out of this without incriminating yourself.

“What were you doing tonight?” She asks flatly, getting down to business. You know better than to provide anything resembling an answer, true or false.

“This whole thing seems pretty excessive, all things considered. I mean, an interrogation? Really, Agnes?” Her first name slips out before you can catch it, but you don’t really care.

“Just answer the question. And it’s Detective.” The flare of anger in her eyes only spurs you on.

“Sorry, Detective Agnes,” you correct yourself, purposefully using her name this time, just to see that flash of heat again. 

“If you were so curious about where I was tonight you could’ve just asked me out.” Now that you’ve opened the floodgates, the suggestive remarks just keep coming out.

For Agnes’ part, she remains still and draws in an angry breath. Her blue eyes blaze with irritation at your lack of cooperation more than the intrigue you were hoping for, but that just means you’ll have to turn up the dial on this improvised plan you’ve laid out for yourself. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?

“Listen, if you’re going to keep wasting my time I’ll just lock you up now and wait ‘til morning.” She threatens with a glowering expression, voice raising every few words in an attempt to intimidate. It’s kind of cute, actually. 

You think she might hear just how her phrasing comes out and anticipate your next response, because she almost looks remorseful. The slightest pink tone that rises to her cheeks and the way she pokes her tongue out to wet her bottom lip when her eyes flick down to your barely covered chest don’t escape your careful observations either. 

“Ooo,” you start, falsely scandalized, “now you want me to spend the night?” A slight giggle escaping you at your own words and the way you lift your handcuffed wrists in front of you playfully. 

With the action, you’re sure to press your biceps against either side of your body to even more obviously display your tits, and she can’t help but look down with the movement, eyes raking over your nipples that stand at attention beneath the thin fabric in the cold space.

Heat is practically rolling off her in waves and you can’t tell for sure if it’s arousal or fury that is threatening to boil over, or what will happen when it does, but you have always been the type to take risks. Why stop now?

“Can’t you just get me off with a warning? I mean- let me off…” You ask before she can recover from your last question, attempting a simper at the intentional slip up in your speech. 

It seems that this is what finally pushes her over the edge as she slams her hands loudly against the metal table and stands up, causing it to vibrate with the impact. Her chair goes clattering to the ground behind her, but she doesn’t seem to care. The satisfied expression you wear drops for a second at the forceful display, maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

“Alright, that’s enough!” She shouts, leaning over so you can practically feel her breath on your face before she rounds the table quickly.

“Do you really wanna keep poking the bear?!” She asks, furious, now standing at your right side and heavily folding at the waist to shout into your ear. 

You have to lean away slightly at the volume that threatens to burst your eardrum and it provides just enough space to look the detective up and down where she stands. 

That’s when you see it. 

Unmistakable and pressing against the zipper of her jeans so forcefully that it’s a wonder they haven’t burst; Detective O’Connor is hard. 

You can’t drag your eyes away from the tented fabric, so obvious that it nearly casts a shadow onto the denim in the odd light of the room. As you are still seated, you’re practically at the perfect level to just lean over and mouth the length through her pants. It’s all you can do not to let your head dip where it wants to most, as if you’re a magnet being drawn by its opposite charge.

“I- uh.” You stutter, unsure of your words for the first time since she walked in. The amount of saliva that has accumulated in your mouth at the sight in front of you forces you to swallow before you speak again.

“I think I’d rather have the bear poke me.” You breathe, sounding wrecked just at the thought.

When you finally drag your gaze back up to hers, her face is burning red, but this time you can tell it is much more out of embarrassment than anger. She looks self conscious in a way you’ve never seen and it’s so, so pretty. 

“It’s okay I c-” You start, reaching out uselessly in your confines, but you’re cut off from your attempt at a rare comforting word when Agnes seizes your right shoulder and lifts you to your feet. She then immediately folds you over and presses you against the table on your stomach, handcuffed hands pinned beneath your chest. You let out a grunt at the forceful action as well as the freezing cold metal that almost stings your skin that has warmed at your flirting.

The position is much like the one you were put in a few hours ago upon your arrest, only now it causes you to ache with desire instead of seeth with fury. 

“You think this is funny?!” She questions, but it sounds strained and unsure. Your own hesitance at her intentions keeps you from muttering out that it’s actually not funny, it’s really fucking hot.

It dawns on you then that she probably turned you over like this so you aren’t able to see the blush that’s probably still spreading over her skin, or the bulge in her pants that’s no doubt only getting worse, especially with how you purposefully arch your back in her grasp.

She has you pinned beneath her hands, one still on your shoulder and the other holding your waist, the perfect placement for her to pull you back against her. Instead, a shaky breath sounds from behind you. It seems like she’s deciding what to do next and you can almost feel the heat radiating from between her hips that begs her to choose the option you’re hoping for too.

You start pressing back yourself, impatient and using any amount of leverage possible to reach your destination. To help her decide.

“Come on, detective. Let me help you out.” You nearly whisper in the most convincing and sweet voice you can muster. Her hands loosen ever so slightly at the soft sound and you use the opportunity to slide the last inch backwards, your ass just barely brushing her front, aware also that if she had wanted to stop you she would’ve easily been able to.

You feel the hardness and heat of her cock against you through both your clothing and nearly release a whimper at the sensation, at the idea of her finally being inside you like you’ve fantasized about so many times. 

Just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone again. Her hands release you entirely and she steps away without a word, leaving you feeling even colder than the steel table you’re slumped against. You drop your head to the metal in defeat. That’s it, you think. Your efforts haven't worked and you’re not only going to spend the night in a cell, but you’re going to do so while very uncomfortably wet and wound up. Plus, she’s probably going to try to add attempted bribery or harassment to your charge sheet. God, this was a dumb idea. Why couldn’t you have just gotten some old guy detective whose questions you would have dodged coldly and without a second thought?

All these thoughts flash through your head in the few seconds it takes Agnes to step away from the table and turn you by the hips to face her, the chain keeping you there being just long enough to allow such movement. 

You look down immediately, as if out of instinct, to find the large bulge still present, possibly even more so somehow. A bolt of desire strikes through your core at the small dark spot you notice has formed on the crotch of the already dark jeans. The evidence of your effect threatens to turn your legs to jelly. Finally, your eyes raise to meet Agnes’ with a curiosity, who stands less than a foot from you, hands still holding your hips loosely. The thrill of not knowing what she’ll do next makes your already racing heart beat even faster.

You find that she looks as weak as you feel, drinking you in like you’re an ice cold glass of water she’s found in the middle of the sahara. It’s clear that she’s used up every last thread of restraint she has to resist your offer, and it still has proven to be insufficient. Her blue irises have nearly been swallowed by blown black pupils that bore into you as she speaks her resignation to her rapturous fate.

“If I’m gonna fuck you,” she breathes the words out like she’s just run a marathon, “it’s gonna be while looking at those pretty tits.”

You lean back into the table in favor of collapsing straight to the floor at those words. How is this actually happening?

Seeing you stumble into the table, her right hand shifts down to your thigh and lifts, helping you to sit on the ledge as she steps closer to let your knees bracket her body. She looks so much more confident in this moment, and not in the same stone-faced way she had while you prodded at her before. It brings a soft smile to your lips and she looks away, somewhat coyly, at your noticing. It’s hard to decide if you prefer her shy or assertive.  

Blunt nails graze gently over your covered thighs, to your hips, then your waist, before finally settling over your scarcely contained breasts. Your own sharp intake of breath meets your ears as you lean into the warm touch and she squeezes them with a smirk playing on her lips.

  “I might not remember your face…” she rasps, leaning to speak directly into your right ear, “but I definitely remember these.” Both thumbs move to brush over your already pebbled nipples, causing them to harden further. You roll your eyes, both at the comment and at the thread of pleasure that tugs right from where she touches you all the way down to your pulsing clit.

For all the humor in it, you can’t help but notice just how sincere her comment sounds and flashes run through your mind of every low cut top you’ve ever worn to work, wondering which one’s are her favorite.

“Shut up and fuck me already.” You exhale with a chuckle against her cheek, momentarily forgetting your binds and trying to reach around her shoulders to pull her closer. The chain rattles loudly and you jerk with the reminder of your limited movement.

Agnes shakes her head and laughs at your needy but firm command as well as your inability to move.

“Here, let me.” She continues laughing gently as she reaches for the key ring you somehow hadn’t yet noticed swinging from her hip. 

“No.” You blurt before you can think better of it. 

“Leave them.” 

It’s a daring statement and you run your tongue across your teeth mischievously while the implication works its way through the woman’s mind. Her lower lip disappears into her mouth with how hard she bites into it, looking at you in disbelief and utter need. 

“Fuck,” is all she says, dropping the keys back to her side and moving instead to undo her belt with a clumsy haste. 

You would be scrambling to remove your own pants as well, not wanting to waste anymore time, but your own request has left you unable to do so. Instead, you’re left in awe as the black leather belt is unlatched and left hanging loosely open while Agnes works at her zipper. Even less is left to the imagination when denim is pulled aside to reveal cotton boxer briefs protruding with the tension of her arousal.

Her cock is pressing tautly against the soft, grey material and the way the underwear clings to her body causes you to gape at the implication of how much the secure garment is still concealing. 

The dark spot you’d noticed on her jeans is even darker and more centralized to its origin on the grey cloth. Saliva fills your mouth again at the sight, the only thing better than seeing her from beneath that last layer of clothing will be when it is finally removed.

As if reading your mind and wanting you to suffer a moment long, she pauses her motions of undressing any further. Before you can argue or make a snide remark, her hands are on your own waistband, tugging the paint-covered article down as much as she can while you’re still seated. You can’t very well lift yourself with your hands at the moment, so you slip off the table quickly to help get them the rest of the way down, hopping back up just as swiftly and letting her pull them off your legs, shoes falling to the floor one by one in the process. 

The cold table under your mostly bare ass draws the breath from you momentarily, only a black pair of boyshorts now protecting you from the metal.

“Do you ever wash these?” Agnes asks down at the rainbow vomit littering your clothing before dropping the pants to the floor, a real dry humor in her voice replacing the stern, mocking one from when she first entered the room.

“What’s the point?” You ask, because seriously, why would you wash them if you’re just going to get paint all over them again?

“Do you answer every question with a question?” She fires back, moving back between your knees from where she’d stepped back to help undress you. Her fingers play again at her own waistband, dipping into them slightly before meeting your eyes, waiting for your answer.

“Do you always stall like this when a girl wants you to fill her pussy?” You ask with an exaggerated expression of curiosity, as if you are genuinely awaiting the answer and not just communicating your impatience. 

Her cheeks pink again at the response, any clever comebacks quickly forgotten. You remove your gaze from her face and shift it back to her arousal to allow her to blush in private.

In your peripheral vision, you see her eyes flick up to watch your face as she dips her left hand into her underwear and grasps herself so gently, right hand pushing the material down to reveal what you’ve been waiting for.

You’re first met with a mess of dark curls that trail all the way up to her belly button, which you only catch a quick glimpse of with the way her shirt momentarily gets caught by her arm. You stifle a moan at the reveal of her thick cock; rock hard, reddened and still beading pre-cum, as you saw evidenced on the front of her jeans and underwear.

Now you slightly regret having her leave the cuffs on, as you long to reach out and take the length in your hands, or better yet, your mouth. Heat takes your face at the idea of getting on your knees before the detective and gagging on her length, and now you’re the one blushing and biting your lip.

Painfully tearing your eyes from the beautiful sight to catch Agnes’ expression, you find her still looking for your reaction. She finds exactly what she’s looking for in the way your eyes soften and you use one finger, your hands still bound at the wrists and settled in front of your chest, to beckon her forward.

Loose strands of brown hair that have escaped her messily tied back tendrils brush the side of your face as she leans in close to catch your message.

“I need your cock inside me, detective.” You husk, more than speak, into her ear, the lust dripping from the title she insisted on minutes ago causing a physical and auditory shudder through the woman. Looking back down, you see Agnes stroke herself once, as if your words have rendered her unable to resist.

Maybe she notices that you’re about to make a comment about it, because in one swift motion Agnes’ right hand flies up to your left shoulder, shifting you fully to your back on the table. You let out a gasp at the sudden movement, metal tabletop clattering at the impact and drowning out the sound. Just as quickly as you’ve adjusted to your new position, you’re being pulled by the thighs to the very edge of the table and towards exactly what you want, Agnes then guiding you to wrap your spread legs around her hips for support.

“You need this, huh?” She asks, hungrily looking over your body from her new perspective. You’re about to answer her question with your own when she slowly and teasingly drags the head of her cock from your clit to your entrance, over your underwear. Her timing is getting a little too convenient.

You groan at the feeling of your own wetness being pressed against you by her hardness. It makes you ache knowing it’s so close to being consumed by your heat, only a thin shield of fabric left between you. If you had full range of motion of your hands, you would have already ripped the rest of your clothing off, but the quick and dirty way you’re both still mostly clothed almost turns you on more. 

Desperate to maintain the dizzying contact, your hips grind upward as your legs become a vice, pulling her ever closer. The clear enthusiasm only spurs her on, gliding back up and down again, circling your clit three times with her cock on the last pass until you're squirming beneath her and hopelessly trying to contain your whimpering. You would rather wait a lifetime for your orgasm than beg a cop.

You’re so sopping wet, though, that when you look down between your bodies you can see the way her cock shines with your arousal despite not having yet made full contact. It’s almost too much to bear, your clit throbbing in time with your pounding pulse. Something has to give or you’re soon going to be a blabbering mess. 

“Just fuck me, Agnes!” You bark out, hips rising insistently and your voice verging on a whine.

The room goes still for a moment, even the clock ticking away on the wall seems to pause for dramatic effect as she quirks an eyebrow and tilts her head dangerously at your outburst. That same feeling from before washes over you, when you thought you might’ve really fucked up, but it only lasts for half a second before a hand is shoving your ruined underwear to one side and you feel the tip of her resting at your entrance.

Your eyes meet her blue ones, which are actually still mostly black, especially in this light. They burn into you like before and you don’t know whether her silence is a good or bad thing. 

You draw in your own shaky breath, waiting for her next move, and on the exhale she sheathes herself to the hilt inside of you.

Even she can’t contain her half of the guttural growl that comes from both of you at the perfect feeling. You don’t even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed about just how fucking soaked you are that she was able to slide all the way in with one thrust, because the way her cock is filling you up so completely has rendered every other thought irrelevant.

A moment passes where you both breathe, adjusting to the stretch and squeeze respectively. You feel her throb once within you and think, at this point, with enough determination, you could come just from that small amount of friction.

You don’t need that determination, though. As if mocking that passing thought, Agnes skips any unnecessary build up and starts at a positively bruising pace. Just one moment ago she was panting over you, looking like she might not even make it two thrusts in before unraveling, and now she’s slamming into you with a literally breathtaking force.

No intelligible noises are able to come out of your throat at first, only broken, reedy gasps. Your eyes roll back in your head as the glorious, slapping sounds of your joining sexes fill your ears. Her length jabs over and over again at the perfect spot inside you, just where you need her. 

Doing your best to focus your vision, you look up to see the red face of a woman clearly holding on to her composure for dear life. Her finger nails are short, but still able to bite into your hips ever so slightly as she practically slides you up and down along the table while also moving against you herself, which deepens her thrusts even more.

This also seemingly provides quite the show for Agnes, who you observe is splitting her time between watching your face contorting with pleasure, her cock sliding in and out of your pussy, and most of all, the way your tits are bouncing considerably with her every movement.

“You like these? You should fuck them.” You make out between gasping breaths, nodding down at your own chest.

Agnes takes a moment to respond, her laser focus causing her to not even register your words at first. When she does however, and notices your gesturing, her thrusting falters only for a moment, as if the idea alone has made her nearly swoon with desire. Crystal irises scan you over again and you can tell she’s thinking about it by the way her eyebrows knit together in a desperate sort of way.

“Maybe next time.” She decides, smirking down at you and ramming herself into you particularly hard once before returning to her rhythm, while her left hand comes up to grip your right breast greedily.

“Mmn- next time?” You ask around a moan, trying not to sound too hopeful, but it’s also such an unexpected sentiment from the detective you can’t help but question her further.

“I’d bet good money this won’t be your last arrest,” is all she says to satisfy your curiosity. While it’s also a subtle dig at your evading skills, your imagination still runs wild with the unspoken promise of how a future slip-up might turn out for you. It almost makes you want to get caught again.

“Right, because you’d love to f-fuck, fuck! Oh my god!” Your response turns into a moaning curse when her hand shoots down from playing with your tits so her thumb can land firmly on your clit and press down with flawless pressure, never letting up consistently filling you in the process. 

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..” The mantra spills from your lips while your orgasm mounts within you and you know you’ll be toppling over the edge any minute now.

If your hands were free you would be locking your fingers behind her neck and pulling her even closer to you to ensure you get what you want, but the burn of the metal chafing your wrists is a delicious alternative. The pain only sharpens the pleasure you’re feeling everywhere else and you throb at the idea of waking up tomorrow and seeing angry red and purple bracelets of evidence.

At your emphatic request, she doesn’t stop. You’ve never been so full before and when Agnes’ cock throbs within you after every couple of pumps, stars explode behind your eyes. There’d better be a next time because you’re pretty sure nothing and nobody has or will ever make you feel like this.

“I’m so, so close. Fuck!” You shout, unsure what possesses you to tell her, but her response only drives you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, yeah, fucking come for me. Come on my cock, come on my c-cock…” She huffs, the exertion that you were already impressed with her maintaining finally shows in her voice, but she still never lets up. It almost sounds like she’s begging, a “please” barely contained behind her lips, and that’s what makes you really want to come for her.

Chasing your orgasm, you redouble your efforts of rocking your hips up and it makes her length press even more fully against your front wall until you’re practically screaming with pleasure. The new angle caused by your rocking coupled with the way your walls are tightening around her in anticipation of your release is also clearly doing something for Agnes.

Her breaths are coming in short puffs and she is completely unable to stifle the loud whimper that bursts out of her when you clench around her even harder, your orgasm just seconds away.

That’s what finally does it, that mewl that you were able to pull from the tough detective. It sends you flying, every muscle tenses and wave after wave of pleasure causes you to buck against the table and Agnes, but she holds you firmly in place, fucking you through it and moaning herself the whole time as she marvels at your release. The aftershocks go on for what feels like forever while you float in your euphoria, never wanting it to end.

After your release, Agnes’ thrusts quickly become short and frantic, almost rutting into you with a fervor. The throbs you’ve felt are coming on every pump and you’re content to lie back in your blissed out state and let her take whatever she wants, until she starts to pull out of you, one trembling hand releasing your hip and clearly intent on finishing herself off. 

You’re suddenly more lucid than ever, quickly locking your ankles behind her from where they’d fallen limp, and shoving her back into you until she bottoms out. A surprised breath leaves her at the action, a sheen of sweat breaking across her forehead as she stutters out her reasoning.

“I-I’m gonna-” She can’t even get the words out and it’s the second time in so many minutes that you feel your heart squeeze at just how adorable this usually grave woman is. 

“I know, I know. Come inside me, baby.” Your voice is thick with desire and you’re still lingering bliss, the pet name slipping out like water, but you need her to know just how badly you want it.

Her eyes widen slightly as a deeper blush somehow takes over her already red face, unsure but so very full of want. You feel her twitch within you despite herself and her hips roll just at the words. 

You don’t break eye contact, making clear how serious you are to quell her doubt.

Tentatively, after a beat, she starts up a slower pace, pulling almost out of you before thrusting all the way back in, like she’s giving herself time to think again.

“You can do it baby, I know you want to. Fuck, you feel so good inside me.” You gasp out the words while she fucks back into your pussy and you think you could come again just from the way she looks at you when you say them.

You repeat your cooing encouragements and it doesn’t even take three more of those slow thrusts before she falters and stays sheathed inside you, rutting weakly. 

“Come on, baby.” You repeat, and you know she’s done.

More of those beautiful whimpers fall from her lips as you feel one stronger throb and then warmth explodes into your walls. You can’t help but moan yourself at the feeling of being filled by her. Spurt after spurt of her cum coats your insides while she holds you tighter and tighter, as if you’ll float away if she lets go. Her desperate moans die down eventually and she slumps against you, still inside, and draws in one big breath before releasing it slowly. Her eyes are screwed shut and her head is now resting against your restrained hands on your chest. 

It’s probably good they're restrained, you think, because if they weren’t you’d be having a very hard time resisting running your fingers through her long hair, tenderly scratching your nails against the nape of her neck.

Another beat passes where the two of you breath against one another and come down from your respective highs. The delicious mix of your and Agnes’ cum has started to drip out of you onto the table below and it’s a hot enough thought that your sensitive clit gives a weak twitch and you clench around Agnes unintentionally, causing her to crane her neck to look up at you.

Her eyes are clear again and softer than you’ve ever seen them; you let your coursing endorphins carry you away on a cloud of imagining leaning the six inches it would take to capture her lips in yours, but you don’t dare actually do it.

She starts to shift, maybe shaking herself from some similar thought, you can’t tell. Her soft sex pulls out of you slowly as she pushes up on her hands and waits for you to release her from the grip your legs still have her in. You unsteadily unravel yourself from her, shuddering slightly at the loss and trying not to think about how empty you feel without her.

Now free, she tucks herself back into her briefs and makes quick work of finally undoing your cuffs. Her hands rub at the raw skin absently, using her hold there to pull you into a seated position. She then reaches down for the balled-up mess you call a pair of pants and slides them back onto your trembling legs easily. After you’re relatively put back together, cum still leaking out and coating your already ruined underwear, she looks you over once more with hunger along with something else you can’t place. 

She looks thoughtful, like she wants to say something else but thinks better of it, instead letting a sly smile pull at her mouth and a different comment sneak through with a soft laugh.

“Consider that your warning.”

[bytemee]

NO DOUBT — KIM MINJEONG.

“i want you, it’s so painful, but, oh, i’d burn myself to prove it, baby, no doubt.”

synopsis. stuck in a boring office job, the only thing getting you through the day is sneaking off with winter. stolen kisses and locked doors make work a lot more interesting—especially when you’re pushing the limits of what you can get away with.

pairing. officeworker!winter x officeworker!gn!reader

warnings. 18+ (smut), public sex (in an office & breakroom), fingering, oral, reader wears a tie bc whats an office job w/o a tie???, bad writing & let me know if there's more!

words. 1.6k

authors note. winter has been bias wrecking recently ☹️ i also have to update my masterlist and link it on these works; lowkey forgot that was even a thing!

you hated your job.

every day felt like an endless loop of emails, meetings, and deadlines that only seemed to multiply. the worst part? the clients. no matter how much effort you put in, someone always found something to complain about.

"can you believe this?" your coworker, jaehyun, groaned as he dropped into the chair beside your desk. running a frustrated hand through his hair, he glared at his laptop screen. "i spent two weeks on that pitch, and the client rejected it in five minutes. five. freaking. minutes."

you sighed, barely looking away from your own stack of unfinished work. "sounds about right. did they at least give you a reason?"

"oh, the usual: ‘not what we’re looking for,’ ‘we need something fresh,’ ‘we’ll get back to you.’" he mimicked their voices with a scoff. "they won’t."

"of course they won’t." you leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. "i don’t even know why we try anymore."

jaehyun huffed in agreement, shaking his head. there was no point in trying to convince these people. they had already made up their minds, always chasing something better.

he was about to launch into another rant when movement across the office caught your eye.

winter.

she stood from her desk, stretching slightly before picking up her cup and making her way to the break room. a gray cardigan draped over a crisp white button-down, tucked neatly into a black skirt that ended just above her knees. her long, blonde hair framed her face perfectly; her smile was soft and sweet.

you could watch her all day.

"are you even listening?" jaehyun’s voice snapped you back to reality.

"what?" you turned to him, blinking.

he sighed. "never mind. i gotta get back to work anyway. this pitch isn't going to fix itself."

you barely heard him. pushing back from your desk, you stood up, your feet already moving in the direction winter had gone.

the break room was quiet when you stepped inside, the steady hum of the coffee machine filling the space. she was alone, stirring sugar into her tea, her eyes focused on the swirling liquid in her cup.

you glanced at her, humming out a tune to break the silence. winter glanced at you through her lashes, watching you reach for a mug, but before you could pour your coffee, winter’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you gently toward her. you stumbled, nearly crashing into her.

she steadied you with a quiet laugh, her eyes twinkling as she met your gaze. "we have ten minutes before anyone starts wondering where we are," she whispered.

"then we better make it count."

her lips met yours in a fleeting kiss—soft at first, then deeper, more urgent. her hands were everywhere—pulling at your tie, gripping your waist, threading into your hair. a quiet moan slipped past your lips as she kissed you harder, hungrier. it was too much and not nearly enough all at once.

"someone's impatient today," you teased, pulling back to catch your breath.

she giggled. "can you blame me? it's been three whole days."

your mind thought back on three days ago.

winter's hands were tangled in your hair, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, trying desperately to stay quiet. she glanced around the office before settling her gaze back on you. your head was deep into her lap, your mouth buried between her legs, your tongue teasing her clit underneath her desk.

her grip on your hair tightened, her eyes closing briefly as she fought to keep her composure. you couldn't help but feel a little bit pleased with yourself—you knew that she only got this impatient when she really, really wanted you. to risk you going down on her in the middle of the office, mid-workday, where anyone could walk in and catch the two of you.

a low moan escaped her lips, and you pulled back slightly, just enough so that your words wouldn't be muffled. "shhh, you have to be quiet."

"i'm trying," she whispered, her hips bucking against your face.

"trying" didn't seem like it was quite cutting it. she was squirming in her chair, her grip on your hair getting tighter with each passing second. "we really shouldn't be doing this here," you murmured, but you didn't give any sign of actually making a move to stop.

"you're just too tempting," she responded, her voice barely above a whisper, her legs trying in vain to close around your head.

"can't blame you for that," you murmured back. "doesn't mean we shouldn't be a little more careful, though…"

her eyes darted briefly around the office again, everyone too involved in their own work at their own cubicles to notice the illicit activity happening right under their noses. the risk of getting caught was still very real, and winter knew she should care, but she was way too far gone.

"it's hard to be careful when you're doing... that," she whined, her eyes fluttering shut as you went back to work.

winter's tongue pressed against yours, hot and insistent, and you felt a rush of desire course through you. it was so easy for her to push all the right buttons. "how much time do we have left?" you asked, pulling back slightly.

"six minutes," she breathed, guiding your hand to the waistband of her skirt.

six minutes. not a lot of time, but definitely enough.

you smiled wickedly, your fingers trailing along the edge of her skirt for a moment before sliding underneath it. she gasped softly, her eyes darkening with anticipation as you leaned in to kiss her again.

you could feel the heat radiating off her body as your fingers brushed against her bare skin. she was so responsive, so reactive, and you knew that you could make her come undone with just a few well-placed touches.

"i think i can make that work," you murmured, your hand creeping higher, higher, higher, until it was resting at the edge of her underwear.

her hips bucked involuntarily towards your hand, a desperate whine escaping her lips. you chuckled, your fingers tracing slow, teasing circles on her skin.

"someone's impatient," you teased, your mouth moving to her neck. you could feel her pulse racing under your lips, her breathing ragged and uneven.

"don't have all day, you know," she protested, her words at odds with the way her body was melting into yours. her hands clutched at your shirt, trying to pull you closer.

you pulled back from her, your fingers leaving her skin, and she let out a sharp gasp. before she could complain, you brought your middle and ring fingers to her mouth. she understood immediately, her lips parting and her tongue darting out to meet them.

you watched her suck on your fingers, her eyes locked on yours, and your heart skipped a beat. "fuck, you're gorgeous," you breathed, the way she was looking at you, like nothing else existed in the world except the two of you, was intoxicating.

she blushed at the praise but didn't stop. your fingers slid in and out of her mouth, and she sucked on them eagerly, her tongue swirling around them.

winter could feel herself getting wetter by the second, her thighs rubbing together impatiently.

once you were satisfied with her work, you pulled your fingers out of her mouth with an audible pop, a thin trail of saliva connecting them to her lips. she let out a disappointed sigh, her lips already swollen and parted, begging for more.

you leaned in, whispering in her ear, "i bet you're already dripping wet."

winter's breath hitched. she knew that you could always tell when she was turned on, and you were right—she was practically aching for you, desperate to feel your fingers inside her.

you didn't waste any time, bringing your hand back under her skirt and pushing aside the fabric of her panties. winter inhaled sharply as your fingers brushed over her clit, her eyes falling closed.

"so ready for me," you cooed, sliding your middle finger between her folds. "so wet."

she shuddered, her hips rolling forward involuntarily, seeking more friction. "please," she whimpered, her hands fisting in your shirt.

you loved how responsive she was, how easily you could make her fall apart. you leaned forward, capturing her lips in a heated kiss as you eased your finger inside her. winter moaned into your mouth, her walls clenching around you.

"quiet, baby," you reminded her, curling your finger and finding that spot deep inside her.

the possibility of getting caught in the break room was surprisingly low. tucked away in the farthest corner of the office, it was separated from the main workspace by a frosted glass wall and a door that locked from the inside.

wait…did you lock the door?

maybe. maybe not.

she nodded weakly, her nails dug into your shoulders as she struggled to keep her composure, her breath coming in shallow gasps. you added a second finger, pumping them in and out of her at a relentless pace, your thumb brushing against her clit.

"fuck, baby," you groaned, pressing her harder against the counter. you could feel her body shaking beneath yours, her orgasm approaching fast. "you're so close, aren't you?"

winter could only nod, her hips bucking against your hand, trying to get as much friction as possible. She was close, so fucking close, and you could tell. the way her breathing hitched, her nails digging into your shoulder, the way her thighs squeezed together, trying to relieve the tension.

"i can feel it, baby. come for me."

she cried out, her body going rigid, her walls clenching around your fingers as she came. her eyes rolled back, her mouth open in a silent scream, her legs threatening to give out. you kept stroking her through her orgasm, prolonging the pleasure as long as possible, until she was trembling and weak.

"f-fuck," she whimpered, her head resting against your shoulder.

You chuckled, removing your fingers from her and licking them clean. "you okay?"

"more than okay," she said, a satisfied grin spreading across her face.

you couldn't resist stealing one last kiss before pulling away. she looked completely fucked out, her hair disheveled and her cheeks flushed. "better get back to work before anyone misses us."

"i guess," she said, pouting a little.

"we can continue this later," you assured her, fixing her clothes and smoothing down her hair.

she grinned, reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze. "it's a date."

[holyguardian]

There was little need to guess where Aerith was. As always, she found a reason to talk, and talk, and to talk and talk. Each room they breezed through, she managed to have something to say, alerting the guards of her returned presence long before their eyes sighted her.

She confidently led Somnus through to 'their' door, even swept out one of her arms in a flourish to invite him further inside. Her heel swept the door then and it closed with a soft click, a moment of silence spreading out, one that she finally didn't rush in to fill.

"Yeah, this is ours." Aerith echoed, allowing time for that sentiment to sink in. She glanced around. There were so many memories in this room... but it looked as though it had been wiped completely clean in the time that she had been gone. Now it stood as a blank slate. Ready to be filled with a new chapter.

His smirk only threw her for a moment. Her curiousity swiftly changing to amusement. "Oh?" she asked, as if that had been a challenge against her. Hands folded behind her back, Aerith approached the door that connected on their left, even pausing at it to politely knock.

"Hello? Gilgamesh? I hope you don't mind the imposition, Somnus wanted to inspect your temporary living quarters." It was just teasing, underlined by the look she threw over her shoulder to the Prince. "He isn't saying anything. I think he's amazed by the artwork."

Finally putting an end to the little charade, and to the build-up of what he must think her room must look like, Aerith grabbed for the door and gave it a simple push open. She strolled inside the bedroom so easily. It was, after all, her most familiar place in the world.

There was something set down upon every single surface. And, to her gentle amusement, there she found her travelling trunk. Her eyebrows shot up at the sight. "Ohh. Guess dad told them where they could shove this." she lightly commented, stepping around the trunk with a hum.

"Of course, I am a generous partner, if you would feel more comfortable in... your personal hell." Aerith offered with a laugh, unable to keep a straight face as she motioned around for him. "You're welcome to this bed should you want it."

He was lucky she was so patient with him. Other nobles surely wouldn’t have shown this kind of sweetness leading him around by his hand. And Somnus was grateful for it. This was all so different from home. The only thing that could make this feel even stranger was if the farmlanders would talk in a different tongue. And yet the Lucian soldiers only had praise and awe for their accommodations. They were used to more rustic barracks back in Lucis. This here seemed like a dream to them. Oh, they would easily pledge themselves to the farmlands. Any grudge or hesitation for having been picked to leave their homelands quickly dissipated here.

The Queen was as graceful as ever – and yet she seemed to mellow in a more familiar tone with him. That embrace was still a surprise and yet this time Somnus was able to return it in a half-hearted attempt. Not to insult her, but because it still felt so unbecoming to simply hug the Queen of an entire nation.

Though Aerith had little mercy with her poor mother.

Somnus felt like a child being led around. This was her home. Plain and simple. She knew everything in this castle. Everyone. This was her golden cage – though seemingly she had spent a lot of happy years here, too. Loved and protected. The guards for sure were smiling at her a lot, whenever she dragged him through a new room.

The door they finally reached was thrown open and… it was a sunlit room with an amazing view right ahead. Branches of trees almost reaching inside through the windows as if they were curious giants. It was… almost too perfect. As if the Queen had afforded him the most beautiful room here. For a moment Somnus wanted to question that, though Aerith seemed pretty sure, pulling him inside. To Somnus’ surprise his meagre chest and bag had already been brought here and it made his heart leap a little. He knew his things were there, something that he could hold onto when all else changed.

The clothes surely still would smell like Lucis.

“This is all… ours?”, he wanted to make sure, finally letting go of Aerith’s hand and looking around. How strange this was. This would be his new home. Somnus stood there, trying to imagine his life here. Years upon years - hopefully. Would he one day sit by the window playing chess when his hair was grey and his eyes turned bad?

There were doors leading away from the room, but Somnus only looked at them curiously. Was one a bath? He sorely wished to bathe himself clean, but he did not want to… overstep? Could he overstep if this was supposed to be his new home?

Maybe to try and overplay his own uncertainty, he gave Aerith a little smirk.

“Well, I am disappointed… you promised me your chaotic cluttered pink bedroom. I see none of that.”

[thydungeongal]

Having thought about it some more, the dissonance between people who are okay with talking in an out-of-fiction register over the table and people who insist on an in-fiction register for even mechanical discussion isn't as simple as the latter group being irrationally demanding of some kind of immersion, but it is definitely an issue of the group not having properly established a tone. Now, this is also not particularly helped by the fact that many games are. Really bad at communicating what kind of tone is to be expected of players over the table. But I feel it's further compounded by the fact that many modern RPGs basically expect players to be able to make mechanically informed decisions, with their characters acting as a group to overcome obstacles together, and with no agreed upon in-fiction definitions for many game mechanics the language of the mechanics remains the best cipher for players to communicate these things about their characters.

Some games do a better job of this than others and are thus more amenable to playing in a way where there is almost zero communication in a meta register. Some games, including most mainstream trad RPGs (your D&Ds 5e and Pathfinders 2e) make it all but impossible because they are so mechanically dense and require players to make mechanically informed cooperative decisions. Trying to play one of these games with zero discussion through the best cypher the players have for making sense of the fiction (the language of the rules) would be an exercise. Imagine a group of aliens, all speaking slightly different dialects of the same language, all trying to explain gleeblor (and all of them have a slightly different definition of gleeblor).

Some crunchy TTRPGs do a better job of bridging this gap between mechanics and fiction which means there is less need for code-switching. World of Darkness games have always had descriptive text indicating what each Dot of an attribute or ability roughly corresponds to in real life. Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy also does this, grounding character skill ratings with actual examples of what kind of person could be expected to have that skill rating (Eureka also has explicit guidance for what kind of discussion should and should not go through the meta channel, which is sort of the thing I was grasping at in the first paragraph: many games do a very poor job of transmitting the desired tone to their players, which means that players are left with an oral tradition of never talking in terms of mechanics even while playing mechanically dense games that make such a playstyle all but impossible).

Anyway so Pathfinder and modern D&D are not exactly amenable to this type of play, which doesn't mean they're bad games, but it should be acknowledged that these games do very little to actually communicate how their numbers would translate into terms in the fiction, meaning that the rules text is often the best cipher players have available to them for communicating changes in the fiction. Because the games themselves don't do a lot to define their mechanics in terms of the fiction, any discussion of "what goes in the meta channel and what doesn't" should ultimately rely on consensus, not a single player trying to enforce their (arbitrary, personal) interpretations of the mechanics on the rest of the group.

Anyway this ties a lot into something that @vixensdungeon is always posting about and what her recent 0D&D posts also touch on: the shape and presentation of modern D&D rules is so that it's really easy for players to just look at them and decide that their character can just "Do an Arcana." She's also talked about how back in 3e days even the skill names had much more of a Verby quality to them. There's less of a need for this code-switching when the Thing in the Fiction matches with the Thing in the Mechanics. Gonad the Barbarian would like to Climb a wall, so in D&D 3e he Climb checks that wall. In D&D 5e to Climb a wall Gonad the Barbarian must Athletics on that thang.

And this relates also to our silly 0D&D posting. A Warrior (level 2 Fighter) fights with the strength of two men. Halflings may never be able to rise above the ranks of Heroes, but Halfling Heroes have Superheroic wherewithal (saving throws of a character four levels higher). Naiviv the Medium may yet one day rise to the rank of Wizard. 0D&D is also, in general, less mechanically dense than modern D&D, so a game of 0D&D where the meta channel is almost never used is entirely possible.

Anyway also shout-out to Apocalypse World as well, because it has a completely different approach to bridging the gap between mechanics and the fiction; a way which might turn off people expecting more crunchy play with less room for language games, but a way nonetheless. These are all examples of effects that can happen when a character does a thing:

Force your hand and suck it up.

Back off calmly, hands where you can see.

You lose your footingm

It's not openly for sale, but you find someone who can lead you to some selling it.

It reaches deep into the world's psychic maelstrom.

You provide covering fire, allowing another character to move or act freely.

Your prey doesn't suspect you. Otherwise, they're wary and alert.

See what I mean? When a lot of the mechanical text is like this there is less need for code-switching. The meta register and the in-fiction register are all but the same. It's not an approach that works for every type of game (a mechanically dense game of tactical combat written in this register wouldn't necessarily be unplayable, but it would leave a lot of things ambiguous that people generally drawn to mechanically dense tactical combat games would rather the game resolve for them), but for the type of game Apocalypse World is it works remarkably well.

[respectthepetty]

I wanna talk about the toe

You know, the scene where Fujisawa squeezed Sei's injured toe!

In the first episode, Kaori stated that a broken nail was actually a simple fracture and really just needed a little care to strengthen it.

Which is exactly what she did for Sei

But just like everything else in this show, this discussion isn't about a toe. The toe could be about the embarrassment we feel, so we continue to suffer even when an easy fix exists.

And it could also be about the true source of pain.

Kaori and Fujisawa are not bad people, and the show hasn't presented them as such, but Sei questioned if Kaori was aware of how upset Hagiwara was about the growing distance in their relationship.

Then the show immediately answered that question through Ayako's testimony. Kaori isn't just aware; she's happy about their situation.

Sei also asked what Kaori didn't like about Hagiwara.

And the show answered that as well. Kaori doesn't like that he is a man.

They aren't broken. It could just be a fracture. And there is an easy fix. But instead, they continue to suffer.

Then there is the actual toe, which is Sei's toe. He hit his foot on the table, in the house of a man who designs furniture.

Yet Fujisawa is rarely home.

Sei hurt his foot after Fujisawa avoided their conversation, and Fujisawa hadn't been home or spoken to Sei since, which is why he barely found out that Sei had hurt his foot after dinner. Then, he immediately squeezed the toe.

Regardless if Fujisawa designed the table that Sei accidentally walked into, he was part of the reason Sei was in pain. And at first, I felt he wasn't to blame and thought he didn't even notice. But just like with Kairo, he is aware. And he keeps doing it. He squeezed Sei's toe. He just heard the story about how it was hurt. He was looking directly at the toe. And. He. Squeezed. It. He wasn't even gentle when taking off Sei's sock.

Sei excuses the behavior and tells him it doesn't even hurt anymore, but this is the basis of their entire relationship it seems. Fujisawa does something that hurts Sei, and Sei lets it go. It's a vicious little cycle.

Once again, the show hasn't painted anyone as the villain, yet Sei has specifically stated multiple times who he thinks is a "good man," and it isn't Fujisawa.

During this scene, Hagiwara questions Sei about what Fujisawa does for him that makes Sei want to be nice back to him, and the only thing of substance Sei offers is that Fujisawa agreed to live with him.

He states Fujisawa is patient with him, but Fujisawa also demands he never meet up with his pen pal. Sei also states that Fujisawa concedes often, yet the friend they just encountered stated that if anyone wanted to speak to Sei, they had to go through Fujisawa.

It's all very normal behavior due to the circumstances. None of it seems malevolent. And yet Fujisawa wasn't interested in Sei's foot until Sei mentioned that he spoke to his co-worker who asked his girlfriend to look at his foot. Then, he squeezed the toe, which is an odd reaction. Or is it all very normal behavior due to the circumstances?

Sei doesn't have friends. He never attended the work dinners before. Yet now he is going out for dinners, has a co-worker whose girlfriend helped him, has another co-worker who is a bit afraid of him and he finds it funny, and a pen pal who has a girlfriend who he chats with through an email account that just happens to be Fujisawa's name and birthday.

Which reminds me of this co-worker and her wild story.

The woman is in a bad relationship. She is aware that she is in a bad relationship. There is an easy fix. But she doesn't leave.

Everyone, including Kairo and Fujisawa, are very aware of the situation that is unraveling in their relationships, but nobody wants to apply the easy fix. They are avoiding the issues and causing more suffering. Which is strange because Sei and Hagiwara have been shown to take responsibility and fix problems.

So why doesn't Kairo tell Hagiwara that she isn't sexually attracted to him anymore when he tries to initiate sex? Why doesn't Fujisawa tell Sei about his feelings (of jealously) instead of squeezing his toe? Because the easy fixes require communication, and they refuse to communicate, which is why this entire relationship between Hagiwara and Sei extended beyond one email.

Because it was never about the toe.

[leighsartworks216]

Claw Machines

Sylus x gn!Reader & MC

Raven deserves the world and more and I need to heal their inner child so so bad and who better to help than MC?

Warnings: fluff, silly, growing friendship, arcades, healing their inner child, kissing, swearing, banter

Word Count: 1,678

Main Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Third Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Sylus was 'busy', but you're dead certain that was just an excuse to nudge you into bonding with Miss Hunter. When she'd called to invite him out, you saw the smirk that curled his lips. You'd glared at him when he said you'd take his spot. You'd even been tempted to ditch her, but you couldn't in the end, knowing how much she means to him.

The claw moves around the box, following the movements of the little joystick. She looks as if she's facing down a Wanderer, not a stuffed koala with a teddy bear. Her tongue pokes out of her mouth, head swivels to the sides of the box to make sure she's lined up properly, fingers tapping impatiently on the machine before she hits the button. The claw descends. Closes. And as it rises, the koala is stuck in its grasp.

"Yes!" Miss Hunter laughs giddily as she bends down and grabs her prize from the chute. She squishes its face, eyes shining brilliantly with glee. Suddenly, she turns to you. "Have you ever played before?"

You shake your head, appearing quite bored with the whole thing.

"Do you want to try it? I can give you some pointers!"

A relentlessly stubborn part of you wants to refuse. Stand around like her own personal bodyguard while she travels from machine to machine with tokens purchased with Sylus's card and a bag full of toys.

But... you're also curious. You'd peered through shop windows and seen kids with toys your whole childhood, without any hope of having one to call your own. You'd made peace with that a long time ago, aided in the fact you now have plenty of money to live comfortably, though you keep that money close to your chest. Now Miss Hunter's barging through that peace, eyes shining and full of childish energy. And you give in.

You step up hesitantly to the controls. She squeals in glee and stands right beside you, nearly leaning on your arm. "Okay, this is the joystick! You use it to move the claw around. And then when you're lined up with something, you push this button and it'll try grabbing it."

You quirk an eyebrow at her. She smiles deviously. "It's a lot harder than it looks, trust me."

You should have listened to her. She makes it look so easy; you have to wonder if she's somehow using her Evol to cheat. No matter what target you went for, it always slipped through. Sometimes in the most ridiculous ways - bouncing off the edge of the plastic surrounding the chute or flipping off into an unreachable corner. You're not usually one to give up on a challenge, but this is getting ridiculous.

Miss Hunter smiles apologetically at you after your target falls over, just out of reach of the claw. "Maybe this machine isn't calibrated well," she suggests, but it's a half-baked excuse. "Let's try another one."

So you do.

And another.

... And another.

It's agony. She'll take over, pleading with big round eyes and a pout that works like a charm on Sylus to play a round, and get a plushie on her first try. Her bag is almost overflowing. She considers asking for a second one, but she looks sorry when she says so out loud.

Another machine catches her eye and she dashes over like a child. You watch her go.

It's... confusing, contradictory, to see someone like her be so carefree and childish. Her life has not been a cakewalk, and she's been through things normal people would never recover from. Yet here she is, squealing and giggling with delight, while you stand amid the flashing lights and chiming bells, arms crossed and frowning.

You hate to think you could ever possibly be jealous of her. Jealousy was unnecessary when you had all the means to get what you wanted so easily. Still, it's difficult not to envy in some ways the ease with which she enjoys such simple things.

You sigh. You damn Sylus for having you take his place on this little playdate with Miss Hunter. Damn the machines and their stupid claws. Damn all the plushies that seem to hate you.

The arcade is relatively small. When you begin walking around the various machines, it's easy to keep an eye on her. After all, if something happened to her here, it would be your fault. And you don't exactly want a repeat of last time.

It's by pure chance you happen to glance over. Pure random chance that your eyes slipped onto a series of miniature claw machines, stacked 3-on-3 in an alley between the bigger machines. You would not have stopped if you hadn't then done a double-take to make sure you saw what you thought you saw. And sure enough, as you step up to the small machines, you see in one a tiny keychain in the shape of a crow.

It's adorable. Big eyes that take up half its body stare longingly out at the arcade, half-closed with an air of disinterest. A little white ruff wraps all around its body. Two little feet with three toes each stick out the bottom.

You glance around to find Miss Hunter. She's moved on to the Balance machines, where her skilled fingers shift the two-pronged claw to nudge the box off the poles. An employee already stands there, waiting to re-setup the machine, as they chat with familiarity. She seems safe enough...

After a moment of watching to make sure the employee doesn't try anything, you reach into your pocket and pull out the tokens she gave you earlier. You insert one, and a small LED display counts down a timer.

The joystick is tiny in your hand - you can only imagine how it would fit in Sylus's. You shift it over top the crow. After spending however long failing on the other machines, you don't have much hope, especially when these are designed to give the impression of being easier so people will want to try them even more. You push the tiny button, and the claw lowers. The crow is picked up, shifting slightly in its loose hold. It's carried to the chute...

A tiny jingle plays, similar to the one that follows Miss Hunter around every machine.

You... you did it?

You hesitate before opening the little hatch, as though you just imagined all of that and you're going to be woefully out of luck when you reach in to find it empty. But no. You reach in and your fingers touch soft fur. You pull it out. There he is - your very own tiny crow plush.

The crow's big eyes seem to stare up at you, unimpressed. But your mind says he's happy, free from his cramped little prison.

Footsteps approach and you're immediately back on alert. You'd been smiling without even realizing it, but that is wiped away for neutrality. Miss Hunter doesn't seem to notice, gushing over the prize in your hand.

"Awe, you won that! It's so cute!" She pokes its cheek with her finger, giggling. "I've never been able to win anything from these machines. How many tries did it take you?"

Something flutters in your chest. A feeling you'd only felt when Sylus praised you - pride. You really managed to do something she couldn't? It sounded impossible after seeing her win over and over again without fail.

You hold up a finger. She gapes at you.

"What? It only took you one try?!" She looks at the machines, and all the cute mini plushies within. She frowns, considering something, before pulling out a handful of tokens. "Maybe they made these easier, somehow? Let me try."

-

"Have fun?"

You dangle the toy in front of Mephisto. He stands in your lap, playfully pecking and nipping at it. He's careful not to damage or tear it - he's always such a good bird.

Sylus wraps his arms around you from behind the couch. His chin rests on your shoulder, large hands massaging your sides. He kisses your cheek. "You're smiling."

Your first instinct is to turn away, but he stops you. Fingers grab your chin and turn you to face him instead. Crimson eyes, smug and teasing, meet yours.

You sigh. You have to admit that it was fun, even if you'd love to be stubborn and say it wasn't. Maybe if you hadn't won anything, you wouldn't have to pretend you hated it. Unfortunately, the toy that dangles from your finger is evidence to the contrary.

"She's a menace on those machines," you say, voice low, like it's a secret.

He chuckles. "How many did she get?"

"I lost count."

You glance back at Mephisto and shift the toy to rest in your palm. He grabs it in his beak, cawing around the object in his mouth, and flits off to go put it with his little hoard. Or, well, you thought he would. Instead, he flaps off to his perch and, using his foot and beak together, manages to hang it by its chain on the end of it. They look like a matching set as he fluffs up and settles down to rest

Sylus kisses the corner of your smiling mouth. You feel exposed. How is it possible for something so small to catch your emotions off guard?

"I'm glad you had fun," he whispers sincerely. "If you'd like, we can go together sometime."

"We wouldn't win anything," you tease. You rub your nose against his, drawing out a soft look of love from his eyes.

He shrugs. "Then we'll steal one."

"How criminal. This may be your most dastardly scheme yet."

"Mhm. And I'll need my best man on the job to help me pull it off." He closes the small gap to kiss you. His thumb rubs over the ball of your chin. Another kiss and his hand shifts to your jaw. Another, then to your neck. He draws you in, over and over, languidly savoring you, like you have all the time in the world.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one

[flwrkid14]

I was reading the two posts about Tim's Christmas list, and just thought of the Bat Family noticing how happy Tim is.

Maybe Damian sees the new brushes and asks why Tim has Stephanie's things?

"Oh no, those aren't her's. They're mine. Danny got them for me cause they were on my list. I've needed a new set for a few years, but I only remember when I'm on a mission and needs to use them. Isn't he so sweet? And he got me really good quality ones, too!"

Or Jason mocking Tim for finally getting new hoodies. And instead of huffing or quipping back, Tim just brightens. Smiling in a way Jason's never seen.

"Danny got them for me! They're so soft. There's some of my favorite gifts from him! It's honestly nice to have new clothes that aren't formal. I'm so happy he read my list." And kinda just bounces away.

Maybe Bruce asking if Tim finally got new cups for his office?

"Danny's so sweet, isn't he? He found my list for Christmas and decided to get me a few mugs and thermoses. It's great I don't have to worry about accidentally cutting my mouth open again." 😊

Or Stephanie (who was injured on patrol and Tim's Nest, with apartment on top, was the closest place she could get to.) commenting on the fact that Tim has a lot of blankets, pillows, and plushies.

"Danny got them for me for Christmas I love how soft and warm everything is. He even found a plushie of a sleeping ghost! It's weighted, has a heating feature, and is made of glow in the dark fabric. Matter of fact, almost all the plushies and blankets he got me were weighted! Just like I had written on my list. They make me feel so loved. After all, he wants me to feel warm and safe, what's more considerate than that?"

Cass looks for Tim, knowing he's staying in the manor overnight because of a gala the next day. She hears music coming from the bathroom, but the light isn't on. So she goes in to turn it off, just in case Tim accidentally left it on. Only to see that there is a light on. A music box made to look like a record player spinning a vinyl, projecting blue light to look like you were underwater. Tim was in the bathtub, with the music box on the rim.

After the kerfuffle of them realizing Cass walked in on Tim taking a bath, and Tim getting dressed quickly, Cassandra asks him where he got it? It's cute and sounds really nice.

"Oh, it's a gift from Danny. He gave me it for Christmas. He knows I like cute things like that. And it's nice to listen to. He even got me this cat eared fluffy hairband for when I do my skincare or makeup! So cute, right?" 🥰

And slowly, all of them realize they never got Tim what he wanted. They try to justify it by saying he put tech on the list, but they look back through past lists and realize Tim changed his list because no one ever got him what he put on the list.

omg, I love your take on my posts! Your writing is so good! And you're absolutely right—the batfamily realizing their oversight and coming to terms with is such an interesting angle to explore! I like the way you went about it, especially all the times Tim kept mentioning the items were from his list!!

That said, I also wanted to address something that a lot of people were frustrated about when reading my original post.. many were upset with the family for not reading Tim’s list, wondering if they lost it or ignored it on purpose. I realize I didn’t provide enough context on my post for how the list actually functions!

The christmas lists in the batfamily aren’t necessarily meant to be followed to the letter—they’re more of a reference in case someone doesn’t know what to get. For example, Damian’s interests are pretty well known (art supplies, things for his animals, weapons), so most of the family can buy him something without needing to check his list. But for someone like Alfred or Bruce, where their preferences might be harder to pin down, the list serves as a guide.

With Tim, the family assumes they already know what he likes. They don’t think they need to check his list because, in their minds, they already understand him. So they keep giving him things they know he uses—cameras, electronics, hard drives—without realizing he already has more than enough. It’s not necessarily neglectful; it’s just a blind spot.

Danny, on the other hand, actually looks at the list. Not only because he wants to get Tim the best gifts possible, but because he lives with him. He sees what Tim already has in abundance and what he’s been meaning to get for himself but keeps putting off. That’s why his gifts are so thoughtful—he pays attention in a way the others don’t.

I hope this explanation helps clarify things for those who were confused or frustrated!!

[stxrsniolo]

┈̸̷┅ ̤ this changes nothing ━̸̷︭

╁ ⠀aegan is typing . . . ⠀⠀ࡆ⠀⠀listen up, because this one's for the grown-ups. if you're here for some steamy, pulse-racing action, you've hit the jackpot. this isn't your grandma's bedtime story; it's spicy, it's hot, and it's gonna keep you up at night for all the right reasons. keep the lights low and the inhibitions lower. enjoy, you naughty thing.

and yeah, i narrated this from matt's pov.

the vibe at jake's party bash in los angeles was electric, but for me, it was like walking into a minefield. there she was, y/n, the one who'd turned our love into a shitshow. our breakup was messy, full of screaming matches and slammed doors, leaving scars that wouldn't heal.

i clocked her from across the room, laughing like she didn't give a fuck, but i knew she was still hung up on us. she was trying too damn hard to act like she was over it, but i could see the cracks, i always did.

"i might've been too perfect, y'know, put up with your crap for way too long," i muttered, accent thick as i cut through the crowd to confront her.

she caught sight of me coming, her eyes narrowing, her fake-ass smile dropping. "well, well, look who decided to show up," she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"of course you're trying and failing to move on now," i shot back, my tone sharp, not letting her see how much it still hurt.

she scoffed, her drink in hand, looking like she was about to chuck it at me. "oh, like you've done any better, mr. perfect."

"i hope you find some dude to fill the emptiness... because we both know you can't survive without a plaything," i said, my voice carrying, the insult clear as day.

her face went red with fury, her hand tightening around her drink. "fuck off, matt. you think you're so damn superior?"

"i'm sure you'll find some sucker to overlook all your bullshit," i kept going, not backing down, the words like poison.

that did it: her arm swung, her drink flying, splashing all over my face, the glass just missing me as it shattered somewhere behind. the crowd gasped, the music seemed to stop, but all i could focus on was her, anger and hurt in her eyes.

"you're such a dick!" she screamed, her voice cracking, the rage real.

i wiped the drink off my face, the cold liquid chilling compared to the heat of our fight. "you always knew how to make an exit, huh?" i said, my voice low and dangerous, barely holding back my own anger.

she was panting, the shock of what she did hitting her. "i fucking hate you," she hissed, but there was something else there, a hint of the love we used to have, now all twisted up.

"and i should've hated you a long time ago," i shot back, the words slicing through any remaining ties.

the tension was unbearable, the air thick with our past and without another word, i grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards a quieter, secluded room off the main party area, the door slamming shut behind us.

"you think you can just come back into my life and fuck it up again?" she spat, her eyes blazing with defiance and something else... desire.

i didn't answer with words, instead, i pushed her against the wall, my body pressed against hers, our breathing heavy, the anger morphing into a raw, primal need. our mouths clashed in a kiss that was more battle than affection, teeth clashing, lips bruising.

"you're such a fucking mess," i growled against her lips, my hands already working on her clothes, the urgency in my movements speaking volumes. i ripped her top up, exposing her breasts, my mouth finding her nipples, sucking hard, making her moan against her will.

"and you're an asshole," she shot back, her hands equally as desperate, pulling at my shirt, her nails digging into my skin as she undid my jeans, freeing my hard cock.

we were a tangle of limbs, the hate fueling our actions, turning our anger into something dark, something passionate. i lifted her, her legs wrapping around me, her skirt hiked up, her panties torn aside in my urgency.

i was inside her with a roughness that spoke of all the pent-up frustration, the hurt, the longing, her pussy tight and wet around me, a testament to her own arousal despite the hate.

"this what you wanted?" i grunted, each thrust a mix of punishment and pleasure, our bodies remembering each other too well. i fucked her hard against the wall, her back hitting it with each deep drive, her moans a mix of pain and pleasure.

"shut up," she moaned, her voice a mix of defiance and ecstasy, her nails raking down my back, urging me on. i adjusted my angle, hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out, her legs tightening around me, her body trembling with the force of her pleasure.

i moved us to the small table in the room, laying her down, the surface cold under her bare skin, her legs spread for me. i watched her face as i thrust into her again, her eyes half-lidded, lips parted, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

i pulled her hips towards me, my movements becoming more erratic, more desperate, my thumb finding her clit, circling, pressing, driving her closer to the edge.

"you like this, don't you? being fucked like this, by someone you hate?" i taunted, my voice rough, my own climax building as i felt her tighten around me, her orgasm hitting her like a wave, her cries filling the room.

i didn't stop, the sight of her coming undone pushing me over the edge, my release following hers, my thrusts slowing as i filled her, our breaths mingling, the room silent except for our heavy breathing.

when it was over and the cold reality settled in, we didn't look at each other, the silence heavy with what we'd just done. i stepped back, zipping up, and she adjusted her clothes, our eyes avoiding each other's.

"this changes nothing," she said, her voice cold, the moment of vulnerability gone.

"never said it did," i replied, my tone matching hers, both of us knowing we'd just added another layer to our fucked-up history.

⨥⠀ ⠀⠀aegan is typing ᅟᅟ:ᅟ⠀heads up, copycats and wannabe adaptors: my work is mine, period. no copies, no mashups, and definitely no translations getting thrown up here or anywhere else without my say-so.

keep your hands off unless i give you the green light, got it?

tags: @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @blushsturns

[siri-ike]

The spray was never supposed to last long. So when Tim came home and heard Dick say he'd sat there with "Bruce" for three full hours, he was concerned, to say the least. He can't still be in his fantasy. He can't still be this docile. Real Bruce wouldn't even be this docile, let alone "elementary school arson record" Bruce. But he just sat there. Staring at anyone who came into view.

His grip was tight, much tighter than he could pull off when he was high. And no way would Nightwing ever ask him to stop. He'd hold him forever if not for all their pesky human needs like eating and sleeping. Speaking of sleep, shouldn't he be getting tired? "Hey, Bruce?" Dick whispered so as not to disturb too much. "Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?"

Bruce shook his head. "I fell asleep, during Gray Ghost." His voice was calm and low (for a child), and he didn't even try to un-bury himself from his dad's hold.

This is big. He slept and didn't lose his memory. Dick waved Tim over.

"What?" Tim spoke at a normal volume.

"He didn't forget dinner." Dick kept whispering, but his excitement shined through. "He woke up at 4:43 pm yesterday, we had dinner at 9, afterward, he got to watch some Gray Ghost tapes and fell asleep. At 4:43 am he woke up again because Phantom was destabilizing as usual, but when Zatanna asked him what happened, he told her about dinner. He Remembered Dinner." Dick really emphasized the last part.

"That's great," Tim brought his tone down to match Dicks. "So then he's stable?"

"Stable? Dude, no. He's aging backwards."

"Oh, right. I forget people are supposed to get older." Tim said, fully serious. "I'll run some tests, and we should keep monitoring him."

"How about we run tests, and you go to your room and take some melatonin." Dick suggested. Let's see if he knows how aging works in the morning afternoon.

One hour later, at 9, Bruce was willing to eat. Dick hadn't left his side and could attest that he was calm non combative and ate like he hadn't seen food in a month. "Please don't be Stockholm syndrome, please don't be Stockholm syndrome," He repeated in his head. "It's too fast to be Stockholm, I can't let him leave. He thought he was dead a few hours ago. Wait, did he ever say he didn't?"

"Hey B? I, uh, Bruce?" He addresses the boy across the dining table.

"Yes, Father?"

Crap, crap, crap. Other age appropriate swears. Dick doesn't look anything like Thomas. If anything, he looks like Martha. No, wait, he looks like his own parents. Unless.

"Bruce, what is my name?" Nightwing fiddled with the mask in his hands.

Bruce just sat there, confused. Like he didn't expect him to have a name at all. "You're... you're, uh," He looked shamefully down at his food. "I don't know." His voice quivered.

"It's ok, Bruce. My name's Richard Grayson, Dick for short." He reassured. "Just one more question, alright?" He gave Bruce time to consider and nod. Nightwing put his arms down on the table and looked Bruce in the eyes. "Are you alive?"

"No~" his guilty expression instantly turned to utter glee.

Nightwing thought for a moment. "Are you dead?"

"No." He giggled.

"Then what are you?" So much for "one more question."

"I am not bound by life or death."

Dick didn't recognize the language, but it sounded otherworldly, almost like a mix of TRAP music and demonic incantations with a hint of backwards English. He also needed a minute.

"Alfred?" Dick asked head in his hands, slumped over in a chair in a corner of the kitchen. "I'm starting to think my son might be the devil."

"Master Dick, all parents think their children are devils from time to time. I certainly thought it with each of you, and look how you turned out... raising more hellspawn." He joked, kind of.

Dick couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "I think we need to move up our meeting with Harley." He sat up, hands on his knees as if to brace himself. "Bring her here, rather than go to her."

"Isn't she in Arkham right now?"

Nightwing pulls out his phone. "I'll figure something out." He scrolls through his contacts and finds two Jim Gordans. He picks the one with the incognito picture.

"Commissioner Jim Gordon." Jim answers.

"Hi, this is Nightwing. Remember that boy, a month ago, who claimed to be a clone of Batman?"

"Yes, he showed up right before all of you dropped out of the world. Did he survive?"

"Yeah, he's... something. Look, I need Harley Quinn."

"Harley Quinn, the clown or Harley Quinn, the doctor?"

"The doctor."

"You know there are plenty of psychologists in Gotham."

"And none can handle these sorts of things without losing their minds, too."

-Silence-

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

*click*

"Why do you need a doctor?" Bruce had innocently popped in, probably to talk to Alfred.

"Hey, buddy." It was impressive, really. Not many people can sneak up on him, especially not so casually. "Harley's a friend of ours. She's just going to talk to you. Think you could do that for me?" Dick has raised more than enough titans to know you can't force kids that age to do anything.

"M-hm." Bruce turned toward Alfred. "I had water and sleep and darkness, but my head still hurts. Can I have something?"

"Oh, dear." Alfred put his hand on Bruce's forehead. "Well, your temperature is normal. Where does it hurt?"

"Here, and here." He he presses on his forehead, then to the sides of his head just above the ears.

"I'm gonna give you one more Ibuprofen, and we'll do some tests after that." Alfred put the medicine box back on its top cabinet shelf. "How does that sound?"

"Good," Bruce placed the pill in the back of his throat with his hands like he was auditioning for a horror movie, then he downed the water like a normal person. He was about to head out but stopped. "Alfred? Can I have candy?" He pointed at the fancy glass bowl full of chocolate covered salt caramels.

"Last I checked, sugar does not remedy headaches... you can have one." Alfred didn't even look at the puppy eyes. He is not willing to put up a fight for something so small.

Bruce delightfully lifted the lid and, careful not to touch more than one, picked out a treat. He likes the ones with blue marzipan.

Nightwing watched him leave the room without a care in the world. "I think you just got played."

"The headache is real. And I believe more than just swelling. He may no longer be throwing up and seizing. But he's been asleep for almost a month, only waking up for an hour or less, always at the same time. Then there's the more recent confusion in identity. Those are not psychological symptoms. They are neurological." Alfred gave his most serious "listen very closely, I'm not even going to buffer this with sarcasm" face.

"I'll schedule a brain scan."

Clone Danny long post

The footprints lead Alfred out of the room and to the right but quickly dried up on the short hair carpet.

Alfred checked every room to the right of Danny's. He had to have left the family wing. 40 minutes of searching later, Alfred was about to go down yet another hallway when he heard faint music and metal clanging. He walked closer to the sound until he could make out some words.

🎶I- can hear the sound of violins🎶

🎶long before- it begins🎶

The gym. Someone is at the gym. He told Dick to relax. This is the opposite of relaxing. He stops for a moment outside the door to gather himself. People listen to empathy more than anger. When Alfred pushed the door open and looked down at the workout area, he didn't see a disobedient clown. No. Instead, he was forcibly dragged back to 1989, staring at a 13 year old Bruce doing chest presses. He always looked the most at ease when he was at the gym. The rest of the time, he would be looking for his parents' killer or discovering seacret organizations. Alfred used to cherish the time Bruce spent at the gym because he knew it was the closest he could get to calm. Shortly, Danny put down his 3 kg weights and addressed Alfred.

"Morning, Alfred. Breakfast already? Thought I had more time." He sounded like Bruce, more than just his voice. Danny had his own way of talking, but this was all Bruce.

"Young Master," best not to object to his perceived reality, whatever that may be. "It's almost seven in the afternoon, not morning." The sun would have spoiled that for him anyway. "And dinner will be ready in two hours."

"Oh, ok. I'll be there at nine then." Danny simply went over to the next station in his routine. Right as he sat down on the floor, something seemed to dawn on him. "Alfred? Did something happen to me?" He asked innocently.

Alfred remained frozen, staring at the young boy. "What would give you that idea?"

"I woke up in a different room than usual, I had to switch down all my weights, and the files in my father's office have been moved. And then you came in looking like you've seen a ghost." Ever the detective.

"Nothing gets past you. I'm afraid you had a rather bad fever and spent a few days in bed. I would like to examine your health, but it can wait. Let's say, eight-thirty? Before dinner?"

"Kitchen at eight-thirty, got it."

Alfred left the room and braced himself on the door. He thinks he's Bruce. He probably thinks it's the 80s or 90s, too. It's a good thing most everyone is out hunting down clues and/or committing extreme acts of violence.

Danny had changed into an all black suit (bowtie and kerchief included) before coming to the kitchen at 8:27. Hmm, he does like to be punctual. His temperature and heart rate were normal, for once he didn't have bags under his eyes, which responded in time to light. But, he was definitely younger than he was when he arrived. Dick wasn't imagining that.

"Can you tell me your name, age, and today's date?"

"Bruce Thomas Wayne, 12, almost 13, today is November, uh," He struggled a bit. "17th? Maybe a bit later, 1988." He avoided eye contact. "Just so we're clear, I wouldn't have known today's date even if I hadn't been sick."

Alfred smiled a little, remembering how much he used to care about getting good scores on everything. "I'll be sure to include that in the report." He retorted sarcastically, earning a small grin back. "Now go wash up, dinners almost ready."

As per routine, Alfred started by bringing out the helthiest dishes. They all knew it was a trick to get them to eat vegetables, but no one was ever willing to wait. Danny was so hungry, even the brussel sprouts were appetizing. Now if Alfred could just stop staring at him and actually put the container on the table.

"Alfred?"

"W, what?"

"Are you OK?"

Danny had combed his hair when he'd asked him to wash up. This was Bruce. This was the boy Alfred raised. The one who had fallen asleep in his arms every night for months because he refused to be alone in the dark. The one who used to "forget" to tell Alfred about the handfuls of peanut butter in his pockets, ruining thousand dollars dress pants on six different occasions. The one who wanted to keep street cats knowing full well he was allergic.

"Do you need a day off? Or maybe a week?"

"What? No. I'm alright master Bruce. Just, uhm, glad to see you have your appetite back. That's all." Keep it together now. He set down a steaming glass dish full of baked carrots, sweet potatoes, bell peppers, onions, brussel sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, and mushrooms.

Danny took as big a serving as he could fit (vegetables can only go in the top right on his plate), making sure not to let the butter run too much. The next dish was steamed turnip. Crap. Another vegetable. Can't mix them. Can't put it somewhere else. The only option is to finish the baked vegetables fast.

By the time he finished his quarter of a turnip, six more dishes had already shown up. How many people does Alfred think live here?

At 21:11 Dick walked into the dining room. Dressed in a plain shirt and pants. The two boys looked like they were going to entirely different events.

"Hello." Danny invited. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"This gentleman is detective Richard Grayson." Alfred interjected. "Master Dick, would you care to join us for dinner?"

"Oh, where are my manners? Here, have a seat. There's plenty of food."

The dinner after that was awkward, but nice. It's good to have some company once in a while. Ever since his parents died, it's just been him and Alfred.

He did wake up late in the afternoon, so it shouldn't be such a surprise that he got to stay up and watch his gray ghost VHS tapes way later than his usual bedtime. Only interrupted occasionally by Alfred, making sure he's keeping all that food down. He had to have been really sick. He doesn't even remember throwing up recently.

He must have dosed off at some point because he was awoken abruptly at some horrid hour of the night by an ear pierceing scream. He hurried to its sorce in the family wing where he saw what looked like another Bruce, except this one had white hair and wore a black onesie. He appeared to be melting into a glowing green sludge. Bruce knelt down and grabbed the boy, who stopped screaming. Opting to bury his face in Bruce's chest instead.

Alfred came just as the gruesome scene was over. 4:50 am, same place, same time, every night. Alfred had hoped something had improved when the screaming stopped early. But rather than the typical gorey mess, there was Danny, inconsolable and covered in slime.

"Wh, wh, ah?" Who was that? What was that?? Why was that???

"Master da- Bruce." At lightning speed, Alfred was on his knees and holding Danny. "Come on, you don't have to be here." He tried to lift him up, but Danny resisted.

"...Why do you have the carpet cleaner?" He accused. "Did you know this would happen?"

[valtsv]

please tell us more about the VALshrue wedding AU

okay <3 yay <3 so basically me and my wonderful friend sacha @unbloodiedmartyr have put our sicko heads together to come up with an au that i originally devised, but which sacha did a lot of the hard work of actually plotting out a rough storyboard for, where shrue got arrested by carson after beating the shit out of him, which initially was going to end with them simply being made a rhetorical saint to shill tranquilitea - but then VAL takes the CLS, and the withermark still happens as a kind of consolation prize set off by the faulknerians when it becomes clear their assassination plot is a bust in a last-ditch attempt to prevent legalisation (it does not work, faulkner is having the worst time of his life still), so carson needs to spin something up to placate the peninsulan populace, who just won the war, but at a horrific cost to human life and infrastructure which has put a pretty massive dent in people's faith in their government and the corporate gods. his solution? a wedding! because everyone loves a wedding, right? it's the perfect distraction, a great opportunity for marketing, and symbolically fitting for the start of a new regime - and he has two perfect candidates lined up to make the sacrifice of being forced into an arranged political marriage. so shrue is given some alterations to make them a love saint, specifically a stand-in for their alternate wartime propaganda version of the promised bride who gave her life to become something that could help her people win the war (which ties nicely into legalising the parish of tide and flesh), utterly loyal and devoted to VAL - who is wandering around shellshocked and despondent until she's captured and tranquilised by god hunters and brought back "home", where she wakes up in a cell to carson gleefully telling her that he has a surprise for her. she is understandably less than thrilled to be one of the new figureheads for the exact kind of regime she came to the conclusion she wants no part in, not to mention being shackled to another saint whose sole remaining desire is to worship her unconditionally, but she has little choice - if she refuses, they'll purge her, and recreate the processes they used to make her to hallow another girl in her place. and then shrue begins to regain some of their memories, and shockingly isn't exactly okay with all this either. meanwhile the clock is ticking for them to figure out a way to stop the wedding of the century from taking place and officiating a literal marriage of '''true''' romantic love to the unconditionally selfless love of serving as a patriot to one's country, ushering in a new age of sacrifice and wanton cruelty.

it's got toxic mutually abusive failmarriage! it's got politicial intrigue!it's got the state commodification of the body vs. the right to personal bodily autonomy! it's got the hideousness of gender essentialism! it's got examinations of how propaganda enables the rise of fascism! it's got aromantic perspectives on the institution of marriage! it's got tragedy! it's got drama! it's got the two worst living dead people alive being forced to learn to care about each other because they're the only people they can rely on! if we ever write it i can't wait for you all to see it