#decisive straight nose with full nostrils

[must4rds33d]

[enters the room timidly] hello… jane eyre nation…

mr. edward fairfax rochester quick study! tried my best to make it fit according to jane’s description as much as i could

(thank u @clair-blake for that lil nudge!! otherwise i actually wouldn’t have the gut to post here lmao >__>)

[animasolaoriginal]

I n n o c e n c e L o s t 🟪 1

After a successful little heist, Ben finds himself in a brothel, where he comes across a girl he hasn't expected. Overwhelmed by her innocence (and a strange wave of long forgotten memories), he makes a decision that will change his life - and hers - forever, as he takes her away, unknowingly pulling her out of the clutches of an enemy he had no intention of ever confronting again.

lonely cowboy/outlaw ✖️ prostitute who's so much more than that

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

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

WORDS: 5.9k 🟪 READ ON AO3

A/N: This is a repost of the first chapter of my original story Innocence Lost. I decided to re-work the existing posts to fit my theme a bit better, so I needed a proper introduction post, I guess. Also: Ben may be an OC, but he is heavily inspired by both Arthur Morgan (and RDR2 in general) and Joel Miller, and somehow also fits the other guys I tagged. I know this is not about your favorite character, but I'd really appreciate it, if you'd give Ben's story a try!

1 🟪 2

Bourbon, rum, whiskey, anything that burns on his tongue, spilling liquid fire down his throat. It all blurs in the end. There's laughter, slurs, hands slapping backs, stumbling, murmurs, more laughter. That post-heist-haze sinking into his bones. Everything whirls inside his head as he makes it up the stairs. “Gimme your best...newest,” he hears himself mumble.

Last door on the right. Somehow he makes it there, leans heavy on the door knob, twists it, almost falls as the door swings open. There he stiffens, blinks slowly, his motions so heavy, frozen in time, slow as molasses. The door closes behind him, he stares ahead, blinks again, eyelids almost stuck to his eyeballs.

And yet he sees her.

The room is dark, small, a large bathtub in one corner, a four-poster bed in the other. An old armchair next to a fireplace, the fire roaring within, the only light source. And in front of it, between the flames and the chair, kneels a girl, pale legs illuminated by the orange glow next to her, skin, so much skin, not everywhere though. Her slender torso is covered by a loose blouse, unbuttoned in the front, falling off one slim shoulder, held together by a tight corset that pushes up her small breasts, creating a cleavage that doesn't suit her. Thin arms in wide cotton, or satin, he can't be sure, it doesn't matter.

He's fixated on her bare legs. The blouse barely covers the hint of hair between her legs, peeking out despite her kneeling position, thighs pressed tightly together as she sits on the heels of her feet. Her hands rest folded on her lap, the chest is moving up and down, and his eyes wander again, to her face. Pale. Soft edges on the jaw, high cheekbones, a small straight nose, lips... full lips, pink and shiny, a tongue darting out and wetting the bottom one.

And those eyes. Big eyes, glowing in the dim light, greenish, blue maybe, like the deep sea at midnight, a wave illuminated by the moon. They look both surprised and eager, but the flutter of her nostrils tells him she is more surprised and shocked by his sudden entrance, by the unsteadiness of his large body.

She looks so young.

Something stirs within him, and not just the strain in his pants, but something more like a knot in his stomach. This is wrong. He stumbles further anyway, watching her closely. She flinches when he comes closer, but doesn't move. Somehow he makes it to the armchair, flops down in it with a heavy grunt, his belt tilting even more on his hips. He shifts his holster away. Her eyes follow him.

He stares at the girl in front of him, immobile, waiting, patient and yet anxious. What is she waiting for? Why isn't she moving? Why is she here? When she eventually moves, only slightly, a little shift on her knees to face him, he lets out a groan, and she stops, eyes wide.

“How old are you?” he slurs, tongue heavy in his mouth.

She tilts her head, long brown waves falling over her shoulder, some strands gathering in the cleft between her pushed-up breasts. “Old enough to please you, mister,” she replies, her voice feeble and quiet, but there's a fire behind those words, uttered in confidence as if she's done it before, many times.

“Age,” he grunts again, staring at her. She holds his gaze, jaw clenching slightly.

“Eighteen,” she says quietly, her chin tilted up a bit.

He narrows his eyes, he's noticed the twitch in her folded hands, the tension in her slim shoulders. “Really?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispers, tilting her head. “Why does it matter?” she then asks, a little louder, batting those long eyelashes. “You're here to have some fun, aren't you?”

“You're young,” he simply states. Not too young, maybe, but young... young enough to make him think despite his drunken state. This is wrong. She shouldn't be here. “How long have you been here?” Done this?

“All my life, mister,” she answers, and he frowns, deep creases on his forehead that hurt inside his temples. “I was born here.” The ache grows. His head thumbs to the beat of his thundering heart, mirroring the throbbing behind stiff fabric.

He leans forwards then, causing her to flinch once more, as he rests his elbows on his thighs and stares at her, scrutinizing her, takes in her young face. Pretty, no, beautiful, in spite (or because) of the rounded edges of her face. She's slender, sharp collarbones visible in the wide opening of her blouse. Those soft mounds tease him, urge him to release them from their unnaturally squished state.

His hand twitches, itches to touch her, but something holds him back. She's young. And... weirdly familiar. His eyes narrow even further as he squints at her, her small frame dark in front of the crackling fire. She shifts under his intense gaze, body stiff, hands wringing in her lap.

“Sir?” she whispers, lips moving slightly, a sweet voice like honey falling from them. Lips... full, shiny, wet, and a sudden image presses into his hazy mind. Lips parted, closed around –

He clears his throat and leans back with a grunt, wiping at his face, the scrape of his beard against his calloused palm a rough noise in the quiet of the room. He sighs deeply, lowering his hand, resting it on his upper thigh as he watches the girl.

“You shouldn't be here,” he huffs out, wetting his dry lips.

“It's my job, mister,” she says, tilting her head to the other side.

He shakes his head. “This shouldn't be a job... not for a young girl like you...”

“I'm eighteen –”

“You're a child!” he grunts, louder, rougher than intended.

She flinches, inhaling sharply, lowering her big eyes. “Do you want somebody else?” she whispers quietly, almost disappointed.

Suddenly he is aware of the noises around them, bleeding through the walls from the other rooms. Moans and cries and squeaking wood and metal. They crawl over his spine like ants, making him shiver as he stares at the small figure in front of him. Why is he here?

She is still sitting on her knees, stiff and immobile, waiting. For what? Her eyes look up at him, chin tilted, the slender column of her neck visible between her silky hair, soft skin, untouched (really?), innocent. Why is she naked below the waist?

He waves a hand at her, his arm stiff, heavy, the alcohol making everything harder to do. “Shouldn't be here,” he growls, tongue twice its size in his mouth. Does he mean her? Or him? Or both? He doesn't know. His mind is fuzzy, spinning out of control. His cock strains against his tight jeans. But his heart is protesting.

“Sir?” she asks again, blinking slowly, dark lashes batting against pale skin.

He leans back into the chair, inhaling deeply, closing his eyes, relaxing. Big mistake. Suddenly there is a warm hand on his knee, a touch like a pistol shot. He jerks awake, stares down at the girl, who has shifted, kneeling between his spread legs now, the same position, just closer, frozen in time with her other hand hanging in mid-air, ready to touch his other knee.

“What are you doing?” he grunts.

“Giving you a good time,” she replies quietly, and a shy smile curves her full lips. Lips around – He groans, rubbing his face again, his tired eyes. “You paid for this, mister. You should get something for your money.”

He shakes his head, hands back on his thighs, staring down at her. She is closer in her new position, backlit by the fire behind her, features blurring. Both hands are on his knees now, warm and small, hesitant but eager. Her pushed-up breasts nearer, the cleft between them deeper. His hands itch.

“Do you like doing this?” he utters, the words spilling without being processed in his muddled brain.

There is a flinch, a wince, a visible reaction in her tense shoulders. She swallows, her throat moves, but the smile on her lips is there, the lie tangible. “Of course, sir,” she whispers. “Let me show you how much...”

She leans up then, lifting from her knees, her hands sliding up his thighs, almost brushing against his. Actress, he thinks. Nothing more. He can't imagine –

But then he does: full lips around a variety of different – He clenches one hand into a fist, presses it to his upper thigh, straining, ignoring the tension in his stomach. The image stays. Lips, a wide mouth, bulging cheeks, closed eyes, tears streaming down a pale face, slurping sounds, helpless gurgles, muffled gasps, rough hands in her hair as her head is pushed deeper onto –

A groan escapes him. “Fuck,” he growls, shaking his head. His eyes find hers, his breath heavy, his body on edge, the strain in his pants almost unbearable, and yet...

She is settled between his legs, shoulders pressed against his thighs, hands inching closer to his belt. “Don't,” he hisses, and his hands grab hers, making her gasp, her lips parting, eyes widening. His long fingers curl around her smaller ones, holding her, inches from the tent in his pants. She looks startled, then confused.

“But mister...” she whispers, letting him hold her hands, her wrists. His hands are large enough to wrap around it all. Lashes flutter, the tip of her tongue sliding over her upper lip. She trembles slightly.

And then he lets go, and his hands grab her face instead, careful, as careful as he can in his dazed state. She lets out a surprised yelp but stays perfectly still as he cups her cheeks with his big hands, his fingers slipping into her soft hair, his thumbs wiping at the corners of her mouth. She holds his gaze, holds her breath.

“You look like...” he starts, quiet, a low rumble in his chest as he stares at her, his mind spinning, new and old images whirling together.

Soft lips, wet, full, strained around –

Green eyes, sparkling in the sun, a smile, a laugh like honey on his scarred soul.

“Her,” he mumbles, tilting his head, leaning closer until his nose brushes against hers. She stiffens, but doesn't move, can't move with how he holds her face. She swallows slightly, lips trembling against his thumbs.

“Who, sir?” she breathes softly, warm and cautious against his dry lips. Her eyes are on his face, taking in every detail with how close he is. Scars, wrinkles, creases, his rough beard stretching along his jaw, up his cheeks, around his lips, fluttering slightly as he breathes through his nose.

“Keira,” he finally utters, the image clear in his dazed mind. The same woman. No, not the same, similar, and a woman, not a girl. The same hair, the same small nose, the same eyes. “You look like Keira.”

And that's why it feels wrong to use her like he wanted to when he first entered the room, to be here, in this house of moans and grunts and creaking wood and metal.

The girl stares at him, lips parted, face warming under his palms. There's recognition in her deep eyes, darkened by the fire glowing behind her, the only light source. “You... knew my mother?” she whispers, barely audible, shifting back onto her knees, bare legs folded beneath her, her hands straining against his thighs.

His heart sinks and swells at the same time. Mother. Her mother. She looks like her. Like Keira. But what is she doing here? I was born here, she has said. Bound to a life of... servitude. Pleasure for others. A slave, a body to use, for money. The moans and grunts of the other rooms flood his ears, louder than before as his mind clears up, as the shock settles in.

“No,” he says apprehensively, a low hum over his dry lips, and his hands tighten around her delicate face. The girl frowns, he notices his mistake. “I mean, yes, I knew her,” he utters quietly, staring at her, gently caressing the corners of her lips with his thumbs. “I didn't know... about you...”

She blinks slowly, watching him, curiosity in her big eyes. Her lips part, a flood of questions ready to spill over them, but he lets go of her face and leans back, shaking his head.

“What happened to her?” he asks, already afraid of the answer as he drives a big hand through his messy hair.

The small figure between his legs shrinks as she sits down further on her knees, her hands leaving his thighs, resting on her lap. She lowers her eyes, inhales sharply. “I don't know,” she whispers. “She... left me here.” There's a hint of resentment in her soft voice, and he can't blame her. Anger rises in his throat like bile.

“She did what?” he hisses, leaning closer again.

She flinches, looks up. “Madam Claire said she worked here, got pregnant from a customer, gave birth to me, and then left, ran away, without me...” Her voice breaks as she retells her story, and his gut clenches.

The tiny frame in front of him shrinks even more, falls into herself, and he can't stand it. He leans in, brings his hands under her arms and lifts her up, easy, as if she was a doll, her wavy hair bouncing slightly. She struggles in his grip, but then she's sitting sideways on his lap, her very bare bottom warm against the fabric of his jeans. She stiffens when he pulls his arms around her shoulders and her against his broad chest.

“I'm sorry,” he slurs, his tongue heavier than ever.

“What for?” she breathes against his collarbone, where the buttons of his black shirt are open, revealing weathered skin.

He sighs, his hand wide on her back as he holds her, his breath making strands of her hair fly before he presses his dry lips to her warm forehead. She lets out a strangled gasp, tenses in his embrace, her hands squished between his chest and her own. “If I'd known about you – I... wouldn't have left you to this – to endure this fate...” he mutters, his heart as heavy as his tongue.

“Why do you care?” she asks, her voice quiet but curious.

“I loved your mother once, many moons ago, twenty years it must be by now,” he says into her hair, his own voice a deep thrum in her ears. “She left me, one day, and I made the mistake of letting her go. Maybe I pushed her to end up here, maybe she wanted to work like this... she's always been a free spirit, couldn't stay long at one place. I guess... I learned that from her.”

He feels her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as she slowly relaxes on his lap, leaning against him, warm and tiny and frail. “What do you mean?”

“I travel a lot,” he says simply, sudden images of tents and horses and wagons filling his mind. But also of masks and guns and blood and shouts, and comically large bags filled with money, cowering people, screaming women, the rattle of a train, the silent squeak of metal doors, splintering wood. And pictures of him, drawn, some more flattering than others, and his name printed all over them. Dead or alive.

She tilts her chin up, big eyes looking at him, her lips parted slightly, long lashes grazing pale skin. He sees her better now, in the orange glow of the fire. She looks like Keira. But she's alone, left to her own devices, forced to work a profession she was born into, that she didn't choose. “What's your name, mister?”

He frowns at her innocent question, trying to forget the Wanted posters. “Ben,” he growls, a deep thrum in his throat. “And yours?”

“Nebbia,” she replies quietly, her eyes wandering over his face, her small body molded into him, warm on his lap, pointy bones digging into his thigh, pressing on his erection. Nebbia like Neigh-bee-ah, long e, more like ehh, short i, like an e, and the little ah at the end, like a soft moan. Rolls off her tongue like honey.

“Nebbia,” he repeats, her name rumbling out of him as he tries to figure out why Keira would name her daughter this. But then a smile crosses his lips. “Fog in Italian,” he whispers and watches how she nods, the same kind of smile curving her lips. He wonders if Keira has made it over the pond, finally seeing the country she always wanted to visit. But why did she leave her kid?

Free spirits can't have children pulling them down, grounding them to the earth, binding them to one place. The poor girl... If Keira knows what happened to her? What she has to do?

Full lips around –

He clears his throat, his big hands resting on her small waist. She still looks at him, somewhat hopeful, big eyes, there's innocence in them, but also something else. A shadow in her green irises. A stain.

“Why aren't you wearing any bottoms, Nebbia?” he asks quietly, his fingers teasing at the curve of her rear.

He sees her blushing, red spots dancing over her pale cheeks. She looks away, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “I figured it'd be easier for you...”

“Easier for me?”

“I heard you were drunk, very drunk,” she whispers into his neck, her fingers fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt. “And I thought –”

He stares at her. In his mind, he can see her lips straining around a variety of cocks, but he can't see her lying on her back with her legs wide open, taking any of those wretched members into her sweet little – “Have you ever...” he starts, furrowing his eyebrows. “Am I your first? Would I be your first?”

She licks her lips, then chews on them. A nod, short and jerky. Eyes dancing over his chest. The sigh that escapes his throat is both filled with anger and relief. She is young. Inexperienced, has never learned the reason why those women in the other rooms cry out in pleasure. She (her mouth) has only been used for the pleasure of others, and that fact only spurs his anger, makes the vein on his forehead pulse.

Why did they choose her to satisfy him? Gimme your best...newest, he hears himself mumble. Newest. Freshly eighteen, huh? Just come of age, open for business. (To think this filthy little brothel has actual rules and has given her time to develop is almost absurd.) He closes his eyes for a moment, relieved it was him who found her without bottoms.

Because he knows he will not soil her innocence.

“I'm gonna take you with me,” he mutters as he closes his arms a little tighter around her, holding her safely on his lap.

“What?” she breathes, trying to look up despite his bear hug.

“I can give you a better life,” he says softly, tilting his head to meet her gaze.

“Why?” Despite her innocent tone, there's doubt in her voice. Disbelief. Why would anyone want to be nice to her?

He laughs darkly. “Because you deserve it?” One of his hands moves up, caresses her warm cheek. “Unless you actually want to keep sucking dicks.”

His lewd words make her flinch, her face flushed as she looks away, takes a sharp breath, her fingers clawing at his shirt. She shifts on his thigh, her body tense. “I... don't...” she mutters under her breath.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asks, pressing his thumb under her chin to make her look up. Her eyes are wet, glistening, her lips trembling.

“Can I?” she whispers, a tiny flicker of hope in the green pools that stare at him.

He smiles, a genuine smile that lights up his rough face, deepening the dimple on his cheek. “If you want to. I can get you out of here, no one will notice anything...” he tells her quietly, watching her closely.

There's turmoil behind her eyes, shivers running down her body, her throat moves when she swallows hard. “They'll be angry with me,” she breathes, blinking, looking away, her eyebrows furrowed. “The women...”

“You don't owe them anything,” he says, the hand on her lower back applying soft pressure, fingers playing with the laces of her corset. “They may have raised you here, but they made you do heinous things that no girl your age should do! No respectable woman without her consent...”

“And the men? Some of them come here only for me...” He stiffens at her words, imagining those sleazy men, salivating at the thought of shoving their cocks down this poor girl's throat. “I bring good money...” He scoffs at that, shaking his head.

“And how much of that do you see, hm?” he asks her, tilting her chin back up so she looks at him. She inhales deeply, avoiding his gaze once more. “Yeah, that's what I thought...”

“I have a comfortable life –”

His hand closes around her throat, long fingers pressing into her skin. She stares at him, gasps, eyes wide. “Sweetheart, you're eighteen now, you're fair game. Men will do anything to you now, fill every single hole you have!” She gasps again, cheeks flushing at his blunt words. “You might have gotten used to sucking dick, but believe me, opening your legs will be a whole other ordeal.”

She frowns at that. “Is sex really that bad?” she whispers, voice feeble, bashful, he's surprised she is able to get these words out at all.

A laugh rumbles through him as he eases his grip on her neck. “No, sex can be amazing, but with the wrong person, there can be a lot of pain and discomfort, and the consequences...” He looks at her, holds her nervous gaze. “You're so young, you deserve better than a drunken guy forcing his cock into your hole, leaving you either completely soiled and sore, or sick, or pregnant...”

She cringes and pulls a breath through her teeth, averting her eyes once more. “You talk so obscenely, mister,” she mumbles.

He breathes out another deep laugh. “It's the harsh truth, darling. That's how the world works, get used to it,” he says matter-of-factly.

“And you want me to go out into that world?” she whispers quietly.

“Trust me, out there you'll be better off than here, if you stay with the right people. I'd worry about your current world,” he mutters, listening to the noises from the other rooms, remembering, despite his haze, how run-down this building is, its clientele, and the state of the whole town.

She can't stay here. He won't leave her, now that he knows of her existence. She's Keira's kid, and unlike her mother, he will never abandon her.

Sighing deeply, he moves his hands along her body, encircling her waist, gripping her gently, before he picks her up and puts her on her feet next to the armchair. She stares at him startled, her hands immediately going down to cover her modesty. He grunts and stands up too, towering over her. She takes a cautious step back as he starts swaying, the alcohol still buzzing inside his head.

“I could really use a bath,” he growls, wiping at his eyes, trying to dispel the dizziness. The girl stands next to him, so tiny and frail, the gentle curves of her legs backlit by the fire, her soft face tilted up to look at him, her long hair cascading down her shoulders. For a moment he is mesmerized by the sight, by how naturally beautiful she is – how out of place she feels.

When he feels the strain in his jeans, he sighs again and turns away, stumbling past her towards the tub in the corner. There's already water in it, a thick layer of soapy foam even, and when he dips a few fingers into it, he notices that it's still a little warm. He can't remember it, but he must have left a good penny in this establishment, for booze, a hot bath, and the best...newest –

He turns back to her. She is still watching him, standing behind the armchair, her hands on the backrest, biting her lip. “Hey kid, you wanna join me?” he calls to her, his fingers already at the buttons of his shirt.

She inhales sharply, then walks around the armchair, her naked legs catching his eye for a moment. “I'm not a kid, mister.”

“Ben,” he corrects with a smirk, now working on undoing his belt. It creates a thud when it falls to the wooden floor, his holster and the heavy pistol pulling it down. Her eyes follow his movements as he undresses, kicks off his boots, steps out of his jeans, shrugs off his shirt. Then her feet tap over the ground as she rounds the tub and stands on the other side.

“Not a kid, Ben,” she whispers, chewing on her lips, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her blouse as she drags it lower to cover the hint of hair between her legs.

She doesn't look away once he is completely naked in front of her, his clothes, gun and bags discarded on a chair, but he can see the red in her cheeks when her eyes flick down to his hard cock, bouncing slightly when he raises a leg and steps into the tub. The semi-warm water lulls his muscles as he sinks into it with a groan, stretching his long legs, leaning back, placing his arms on the edge, before he looks up at her.

“I meant it, Nebbia,” he says softly, tilting his head. “Come join me. I promise you don't have to do anything but sit with me.”

“I... shouldn't...” she whispers, her eyes trailing over his naked chest, half-submerged in the tub, before she looks towards the door. “We're not allowed...”

“I paid for you, didn't I?” She looks back, meeting his gaze, and he smiles at her. “Technically I can do anything to you. But I just want you to enjoy a semi-hot bath. There's still enough room,” he adds and spreads his legs, creating a space between them on the other side of the tub.

She hesitates, and he wonders why. Moments ago she seemed content to give him a good time, as she has called it, but now she is strangely coy for a prostitute who's had her throat fucked countless times before. The image of her lips strained around a cock – his cock maybe? – comes back into his mind, and he has to clench his jaw tightly to fight the urge to grab her and pull her close, do all those things to her that he has warned her about. That he's promised not to do to her.

Eventually she turns around, presenting her well-formed rear to him, those plump little cheeks, well-rounded, squeezable, the cleft between them guiding his eyes between her legs, but when her hands move up to the string holding her corset, he sighs, nodding to himself when he sees her predicament. He reaches out and tugs on the bow with one finger, loosening the tight laces slowly, carefully, and she lets him do so.

The stiff thing falls down her hips once it's loose enough, and she steps out of it, slowly turning back to him as she unbuttons the rest of her blouse and shrugs it off her slender shoulders. He can't help himself, he stares at her naked form.

Keira's kid. Half his age. He's promised her a better life.

And still he can't look away, taking in every detail of her body. How her small breasts perk, nipples hard already, the gentle slope of those mounds he wants to weigh in his big hands. How her hair falls over her shoulders, soft springy waves, silky, the same color as her mother's. His eyes trail down her chest, over the shimmer of ribs under thin skin, the flat stomach and little indent of her belly button. And that small waist, the swell of her hips, soft pale legs, cushioned thighs, and between them, the hint of hair above her sex.

Her skin is pristine, pale like alabaster, unmarked, pure.

There's a blush on her face that slowly spreads down her shoulders and between her breasts, and he has to force himself to close his eyes as she steps closer and lifts a leg to step into the tub – even though he wants nothing more than to take a peek at her sweet little cunt. Unused and innocent. He has to keep it that way.

Water splashes against his stomach when she sits down opposite him, knees bent and pulled against her chest as she settles between his outstretched legs. He looks at her with a gentle smile, and she smiles back, her eyelids fluttering.

“Not bad, eh?” he laughs quietly, moving a fluff of foam towards him with his big hands, then lathers his arms with it. She just sits there on the other side of the tub, watching him.

“Do you really mean it?” she whispers after a moment of both of them just soaking in the water.

“What?” he grunts, leaning his head against the edge of the tub as he slides a little lower, using the space she's left to fully stretch his body.

“That you're going to take me with you,” she replies, her eyes scanning his face.

He sighs, his breath blowing a tuft of foam towards her. “Yes, I mean it. I won't let you stay here, objected to all these... things,” he says. “You're Keira's daughter, and even if she might not have wanted you, I will take care of you.”

She frowns, trying to ignore the sting in her heart, the flinch of her tense shoulders at his words. “But why? You don't know me! And I don't know you! Why should I go with you?”

“You wanna stay here? Rot away and die in ten years or sooner?” His voice is harsh, his eyes dark, his jaw tense. “There's no money to be made if you stay under your Madam's thumb. You'll just be another body with a bunch of holes, destined to take it all, if you want to or not. How is this a life you'd want to continue?”

She licks her lips, her arms hugging her knees tighter. “I have food and a roof above my head...” she says quietly, averting her eyes.

He scoffs. “If that's your standard, then I can assure you that you will never go hungry, always have a comfortable bed, be safe from the elements, when you come with me.”

“But why?” she asks again, finally looking back at him. “Why are you so... nice to me?” She takes a shuddering breath. “Just because I'm the kid of a love lost?”

“I thought you weren't a kid,” he teases, and she groans with a slightly exasperated smirk. “I know it's a rare thing for people to just be nice nowadays, but you can trust me. I'm a good guy,” he lies through his teeth, a glint in his eyes.

“And you expect me to believe that?” she says, shifting in the tub, extending her legs slightly, her feet brushing against his inner thighs. “I might not know how the world works, but I see the men coming here. I've seen all types. And you look like the type I might encounter on a Wanted poster.”

He raises his eyebrows, his lips twitching. “Interesting assessment, missy. And you can tell by just looking at a man's cock?”

She grunts in indignation and splashes water towards him. He laughs and shields his face with one arm. “A fine gentleman would never talk like that...” she mumbles.

His laughter gets even louder. “And you expect a fine gentleman to walk into this establishment? Do you know where you are?” She scoffs and crosses her arms in front of her chest, slowly stretching out her legs until he can feel the soles of her feet pressing right against his groin. “Careful now,” he warns.

Her cheeks are flushed, but that doesn't stop her from rubbing her foot upwards and along his hard shaft, pressing it into his lower stomach. He watches her closely, holding in a groan. And she looks right back, green eyes hard and a dark smile on her full lips. Lips around his cock. He leans back and lets out the noise he has been suppressing. Her toes curl around his tip, his breath hitches in his throat.

And he savors the moment, just a moment, a few seconds, because it feels good. She is good, doing what she does. Would be a shame to stop her now, hm? But then he leans in and lowers his hands into the water, grabbing her ankle, stopping her after all. She yelps quietly as he pulls her leg towards him, causing her to slip. Her hands squeak along the edge of the tub as she tries to hold onto it, but before her head submerges, he lets go of her, letting her leg rest on top of his thigh.

She scrambles back into a sitting position, her eyes on him, her lips parted. “I don't have a choice, do I?” she then whispers, allowing him to put his big hand on her shin, holding her there.

He smiles at her, his eyes twinkling. “Correct, sweetheart. I will force you to have a better life, no matter what,” he says quietly, rubbing his hand up her leg.

She inhales deeply and leans back, her arms resting on the edge, hands hanging off, as she relaxes in the water, under his touch, with her bare chest exposed to him. Trusting. “You're a strange man, mister... Ben,” she whispers, smiling softly as she watches him.

He grips her thigh gently, winking at her. The buzz from the alcohol is as good as gone, replaced with a different kind of vertigo. Ignoring the twitching of his cock under the water surface, he keeps his eyes on the girl in front of him, taking in her features, a strange warmth gathering in his stomach.

He came here to celebrate the successful heist, drink himself stupid and have a good fuck afterwards. He hasn't expected to meet Keira's kid here, to be this attracted to her, to tell her he wants to take her with him. But he has, is, does, all of it, he wants her by his side, wants to give her a chance at a different life, away from pleasuring strangers every night of the week.

Does he want her for himself? Maybe. But he still also genuinely wants her to be happier, be herself, have the freedom that he has. She deserves it. And he does too, selfishly so, to have her.

1 🟪 2

End notes: Welcome (and welcome back) to my first original story with real original characters who keep pestering me to continue their story.

Please note that I am no expert on anything wild west/western/horses/cowboys/brothels/etc. - I write silly little love/smut stories. This story, even though it's not mentioned, is set at the end of the 1800s somewhere in the west, I'm keeping it vague on purpose, this is about Ben and Nebbia.

Thank you for reading!

AO3 🟪 MASTERLIST 🟪 INSPIRATION POSTS

[arkturusz]

@cult-of-the-eye here it is, hope you like it :3

MAG[REDACTED] - Blood in the Machine

Anonymous statement, regarding the statement maker's purchase and use of a strange desktop computer. Original statement given 4th of February 2024, recording by Arcturus Walker, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, Budapest. Put to tape on the 21st of March 2024. Statement begins:

I don't want to go into details as to why I came to make this decision. It was an offer too good to be true, just what a struggling university student needed: a cheap PC with great specs and with only 2 years of usage. I know how some sellers put enticing prices on Facebook Marketplace just to drop the real deal in later messages, but that wasn't the case. The owner got his hands on "something better" and saw no use in keeping this one around so he asked for the bare minimum that would still be a deal to him.

I went to pick up the desktop, it was a city away so I drove there. It was a bit weird how creeping closer to the destination all we had were dirt roads. I live in the suburbs, I know not all city councils pay it enough attention, but these weren't those dusty solid roads. These were muddy, the tracks barely visible and overgrown with grass. No, not grass, something more- vibrant.

The roads branched off a few hundred meters from my destination, only one going in its general direction so I followed it. I reached a house, no buildings in its neighborhood, crop fields on one side, a small forest on the other, the kind that always seems way more moist than the weather would allow it and always has that smell of thick mud and insects. I could only *enjoy* that for a moment before I got hit with something else, something fleshier. It was a stench that burnt into my nostrils. I try not to judge a house by the smell, my parents were chainsmokers and I've always been more ashamed to bring friends home than it seemed they were bothered by the odor. Assuming I just met a butcher, or really just someone that keeps their own livestock I headed inside.

It felt like a hallucination, it really did. I stepped into a corridor, my lungs full of the dull yet powerful stench that covered everything. My brain felt foggy and with a headache that felt like pressure on my skull I continued inside. I was hoping to pick up the computer and get going right away, and I did my best to accomplish just that. I lifted the PC which was rather heavy and hurried back the way I came when something caught my attention. As I was putting my shoes on my brain alerted me of movement. From all around. The walls seemed to have this rhythmic pulse to them. If I wasn't at the doorstep I would've fainted, that's for sure, but I made it out to my car, telling myself it's the headache getting to me.

The drive back was nothing out of the ordinary, but that foul smell just wouldn't leave my nose. I parked, opened my boot and to no surprise the aroma oozed out of the case like a thick invisible fog, bringing back that numbing pressure that I felt earlier. I grabbed all the cleaning chemicals and similar that I could find lying around, giving it a thorough rub on the outside. I pride myself on my expertise in software, but the hardware always confused me and I never bothered to learn it. Thus I did not want to open it up, which proved to be a grave mistake.

For 6 months straight there seemed to have been no problem with the PC. It worked as intended, was just as fast as I expected and the smell was only noticeable if you got up close to sniff the case. Which I didn't. But two days ago I didn't need to either. I woke up to a strange smell. It wasn't as strong or numbing as the one I felt at the house but it certainly wasn't pleasant. We had maintenance that night, we were notified that from 10pm we should be expecting a blackout. I didn't mind, but it seemed that whatever was in my computer did not like it. I decided to give it another round of cleaning once I was done with my cup of coffee. I dressed up and went to pull out the cables on the back, but they were a lot harder to unplug than I remembered. I ripped out the one which was most limiting length-wise and I pulled the rest of the case out from under my desk. As I saw the back of the PC I had to stop myself from throwing up.

Now I'm not afraid of gore, I grew up in a generation (and the subcultures) that made it such a commonplace it's usually unamusing. On screen, at least. But I didn't expect to come face to face with a chunk of skin stretching across where my plugs should have been. The cable I ripped out laid on the floor, a dark red liquid dripping from it, staining my carpet. Same thing could be found on the back of the case. Turns out the cable wasn't just stuck, it was *integrated* into the fleshy mess that shouldn't have been there.

That's when I got a screwdriver and ripped the case open. It seemed like the only logical way to deal with whatever infested my computer and I didn't know what else I could do. The case came away like a sticker, the inside melted to a wall of human-like skin, peeling away it left a residue of perspiration on the plastic.

The flesh monster's skin seemed to have formed a block, covering its insides from all angles, pressing against the vents and pushing out through the outlets. The cord I ripped had left a nasty hole that started to scar up, but I wanted to see what I was up against and I *didn't let it*. I scraped away the scar tissue with the screwdriver and pushed it through the wound, detaching the vein that supplied my cable from the wall of skin. The case still hugging it from the outside cast a shadow that made it hard for me to see in, so I turned on my flashlight, stretching at the hole with my tool, trying to take a peek.

I saw veins running across the surface, the inside was humid and *warm*, at least warmer than room temperature but it wasn't the heat of a working human body. It was starting to cool. In the middle of the case I saw something heavy, a huge knot in the middle of the circulatory system which kept beating in a steady rhythm. It was slow, the pulse was invisible from the outside, yet it kept pushing blood through the opening, trying to close it up, but the scarring slowed down significantly from when I first ripped that cable out. It ran on electricity, it had to have been the case, the inside had a greenish tone from what I could make out, meaning that during the blackout it started rotting. The system that somehow ran like a normal computer for months started to decay, which reminded me of the smell my brain ignored from my initial shock that once again sat heavy in my lungs.

I did not reconnect it but I didn't know what to do with it either. Who would have I called? I scoured the internet to find your institute, and I left my PC to you. Past making this statement I wish not to associate myself with this case any longer.

Statement ends. First thing after reading this statement I went down to artifact storage to ask about this curio. Turns out whoever left it to us delivered it too late, the "heart" was not beating and the thing once stretched against the walls of it's case now sat collapsed and rotten in the organic section, making any other follow-up almost impossible. Looking for the flesh house also yielded no results, meaning I will put this case to rest as-is. What does keep me wondering are the intentions of the seller. Why would an avatar of the Flesh sell a piece of itself to an unsuspecting individual? There was no mention of the *flesh block* attempting to leave its case meaning there was no intention of spreading the system either. Maybe they didn't intend the buyer to possess it for so long, maybe they tried to alert us of their vicinity. But they failed. They left us with a cold trail. *sigh* Recording ends

This is episode one of my series I call MAGREDACTED, here are all the episodes out now:

The Vast The Stranger The Dark

New episodes will be posted over on @archivus !

[thatscarletflycatcher]

A Jane Eyre fancast

(Because I have enablers that let me rant about these things)

Bella Ramsey as Jane Eyre

I sometimes regretted that I was not handsomer; I sometimes wished to have rosy cheeks, a straight nose, and small cherry mouth; I desired to be tall, stately, and finely developed in figure; I felt it a misfortune that I was so little, so pale, and had features so irregular and so marked.

Sam Riley as Mr Rochester

I knew my traveller with his broad and jetty eyebrows; his square forehead, made squarer by the horizontal sweep of his black hair. I recognised his decisive nose, more remarkable for character than beauty; his full nostrils, denoting, I thought, choler; his grim mouth, chin, and jaw—yes, all three were very grim, and no mistake. His shape, now divested of cloak, I perceived harmonised in squareness with his physiognomy: I suppose it was a good figure in the athletic sense of the term—broad chested and thin flanked, though neither tall nor graceful.

Robbie Kay as St John Rivers

Had he been a statue instead of a man, he could not have been easier. He was young—perhaps from twenty-eight to thirty—tall, slender; his face riveted the eye; it was like a Greek face, very pure in outline: quite a straight, classic nose; quite an Athenian mouth and chin. It is seldom, indeed, an English face comes so near the antique models as did his. He might well be a little shocked at the irregularity of my lineaments, his own being so harmonious. His eyes were large and blue, with brown lashes; his high forehead, colourless as ivory, was partially streaked over by careless locks of fair hair.

Synnove Karlsen as Blanche Ingram

“Tall, fine bust, sloping shoulders; long, graceful neck: olive complexion, dark and clear; noble features; eyes rather like Mr. Rochester’s: large and black, and as brilliant as her jewels. And then she had such a fine head of hair; raven-black and so becomingly arranged: a crown of thick plaits behind, and in front the longest, the glossiest curls I ever saw. She was dressed in pure white; an amber-coloured scarf was passed over her shoulder and across her breast, tied at the side, and descending in long, fringed ends below her knee. She wore an amber-coloured flower, too, in her hair: it contrasted well with the jetty mass of her curls.”

Olivia Cooke as Miss Temple

she looked tall, fair, and shapely; brown eyes with a benignant light in their irids, and a fine pencilling of long lashes round, relieved the whiteness of her large front; on each of her temples her hair, of a very dark brown, was clustered in round curls, according to the fashion of those times, when neither smooth bands nor long ringlets were in vogue; her dress, also in the mode of the day, was of purple cloth, relieved by a sort of Spanish trimming of black velvet; a gold watch (watches were not so common then as now) shone at her girdle. Let the reader add, to complete the picture, refined features; a complexion, if pale, clear; and a stately air and carriage, and he will have, at least, as clearly as words can give it, a correct idea of the exterior of Miss Temple—Maria Temple, as I afterwards saw the name written in a prayer-book intrusted to me to carry to church.

Emily Watson as Mrs Fairfax

A snug small room; a round table by a cheerful fire; an arm-chair high-backed and old-fashioned, wherein sat the neatest imaginable little elderly lady, in widow’s cap, black silk gown, and snowy muslin apron; exactly like what I had fancied Mrs. Fairfax, only less stately and milder looking. She was occupied in knitting; a large cat sat demurely at her feet; nothing in short was wanting to complete the beau-ideal of domestic comfort.

Kate Winslet as Mrs Reed

Mrs. Reed might be at that time some six or seven and thirty; she was a woman of robust frame, square-shouldered and strong-limbed, not tall, and, though stout, not obese: she had a somewhat large face, the under jaw being much developed and very solid; her brow was low, her chin large and prominent, mouth and nose sufficiently regular; under her light eyebrows glimmered an eye devoid of ruth; her skin was dark and opaque, her hair nearly flaxen; her constitution was sound as a bell—illness never came near her; she was an exact, clever manager; her household and tenantry were thoroughly under her control; her children only at times defied her authority and laughed it to scorn; she dressed well, and had a presence and port calculated to set off handsome attire.

Dakota and Elle Fanning as Eliza and Georgiana Reed

Two young ladies appeared before me; one very tall, almost as tall as Miss Ingram—very thin too, with a sallow face and severe mien. There was something ascetic in her look, which was augmented by the extreme plainness of a straight-skirted, black, stuff dress, a starched linen collar, hair combed away from the temples, and the nun-like ornament of a string of ebony beads and a crucifix. This I felt sure was Eliza, though I could trace little resemblance to her former self in that elongated and colourless visage.

The other was as certainly Georgiana: but not the Georgiana I remembered—the slim and fairy-like girl of eleven. This was a full-blown, very plump damsel, fair as waxwork, with handsome and regular features, languishing blue eyes, and ringleted yellow hair. The hue of her dress was black too; but its fashion was so different from her sister’s—so much more flowing and becoming—it looked as stylish as the other’s looked puritanical.

Emma Mackie and Margot Robbie as Diana and Mary Rivers

I thought them so similar I could not tell where the old servant (for such I now concluded her to be) saw the difference. Both were fair complexioned and slenderly made; both possessed faces full of distinction and intelligence. One, to be sure, had hair a shade darker than the other, and there was a difference in their style of wearing it; Mary’s pale brown locks were parted and braided smooth: Diana’s duskier tresses covered her neck with thick curls.

[frantic-fuck]

Like Flicking a Switch

@whumptember day 11: "One last favor, then I'll leave you alone", knife, sacrificing themself

Masterpost

Content: mentions of gore and lab whump, implied murder, royal whumper, nonhuman/vampire/satyr whumpee, feral caretaker (not really caretaker rn but w/e), heavy dehumanization (calling caretaker "it"), forced self-harm

Thought it'd be fun to show exactly when Ziri's and Janessa's dynamic changed, since he wasn't always so meek around her~

~

"M-m'lady, does— does 'Ziri' mean anything?"

Janessa sharply looks up from her work, staring down the poor schmuck who drew the short straw and had to confront her. She speaks in a dangerously tense voice.

"Why do you ask?"

"We— well, it's just the, uh— that new fusion, right? The sea elf and the dragon— drake, I mean—"

She flares her nostrils, and the schmuck's heart skips a few beats.

"S-sorry, m'lady. Whatever it is, it keeps— it keeps yelling "Ziri" over and over. They say it's been doing that since day one."

"They?" She stands up. "Who, exactly, knows about this?"

"I don't— I don't know for sure, m'lady. It's just been circling around."

She slams her hands on the table. "This has been going on for nearly a week now, and instead of coming straight to me, all you pathetic shits have done is gossip amongst yourselves?!"

They shakily step back as she steps towards them.

"I— I didn't know, m'lady. Not until yester—"

"Then why didn't you tell me yesterday?!"

"I'm s— I'm sorry, m'lady. I'm so sorry. I didn't— no one knew it was so important. I'm sure if— well, I would have told you straight away if I'd known."

Janessa pinches the bridge of her nose. She's going to have to wipe so many memories before this gets out of hand. And she'll have to do it again and again if she doesn't put a stop to this. But if she just silences that thing, or bans access to it, it'll raise questions, and apparently rumors will spread before she's made aware, and... ugh.

She may as well just kill it. It's served its purpose.

"Stay here. Breathe a word and you'll be demoted."

"Y-yes, m'lady." Unable to handle the tension, the poor schmuck makes the poor decision to flash Janessa an uneasy, joking smile. "But— but with all due respect, m'lady, I'm an unpaid intern. What position could I possibly be demoted to?"

She turns to glare at them, and they're suddenly stricken with a deep, DEEP regret.

"Horizontal and six feet under."

With a huff, Janessa finally slams the door behind her. She'll have someone clean up that mess later.

As she storms towards the fusion's cell, she figures she may as well get a little fun out of this.

"Ziri~ Guess what~"

No response. She rolls her eyes and makes the telepathy louder.

"ZIRI!"

After a few seconds, she barely manages to make out a quiet moan in her head.

"Guess what~"

No response again. She shakes the gem.

"...mhhhhh..."

"We're not done with your sibling yet~!" She smugly emphasizes the singularity of the word.

No response.

"Aren't you excited to see what horrible things will happen to it next, Ziri?"

No response. She sighs. Today just isn't her day, is it?

"Spoiler alert: I'm going to kill it."

No response. She shakes the gem more violently.

"Are you listening to me?"

"..........mhm."

"I'm going to slowly torture it to death and make you watch."

"mhm."

"It's going to be even worse than the initial fusion."

"mm."

This is getting more annoying than that idiot intern.

"If you say a full sentence I'll consider making it quicker."

No response.

"A word. Can you manage one single word with your broken fucking brain?"

Nothing.

If Ziri's going to be like this, is it even worth bothering to make a scene of the fusion's death? Janessa has better things to do if this won't be any fun.

Just before the door of its cell, she pauses. She has the fusion of his siblings, something that should get to him more than anything, in the palm of her hand. It'd be such a wasted opportunity to throw it away...

Suddenly, an idea strikes her. A genius idea.

With renewed vigor, she thrusts the door open. She's immediately bombarded with broken cries of "Ziri!" as she was informed.

As soon as the fusion sees her, however, it interrupts itself with a roar, angrily straining towards her with no regard for the manacles digging into its flesh.

"Tsk, tsk," she chides. "To think, you were once a great leader. Well, half of you, anyway. Powerful... Strategic... Respected..." She smirks. "Almost not a complete failure..."

It snarls at her as she takes a step towards it.

"And now you've been reduced to this. Helpless. Brainless. Ridiculous. Nothing but blabbering monster only capable of pitifully crying for its brother, lashing out with all the strategy of a rabid dog. Truly pathetic."

As she slowly approaches the fusion, it slowly backs away from her. If she didn't know better, she'd think it was afraid. But she can clearly see its arms at the ready, gradually less restricted as it nears the base of its chains.

"That said... the headache you've caused me could almost be considered clever. Deliberate, at least. Did Chaos leave more braincells intact than I thought? Or are you really just that sad, crying out for him as if he'll appear out of thin air?"

With a low growl, it raises an arm, claws crackling with electricity. Janessa takes one more step forward, noting that she's just about within range of an attack.

"Well, ask and you shall receive."

At the last second, she steps away and summons Ziri in her place, snickering as he takes the blow with a startled yelp. That ought to get his attention.

With a weak groan, he half-heartedly tries to push himself off the ground, his electrified muscles eagerly working against his efforts. He doesn't get the chance to make much progress before the fusion launches itself at him, squeezing him tightly with every limb it can control enough to wrap around him.

His exhausted expression doesn't betray his mental state nearly so much as the garden on his horns, every plant almost entirely dead. She watches them come to life ever so slightly as he stares at the fusion, then looks to her with confusion. When he finally speaks, his voice is painfully hoarse from disuse.

"What—" He hisses through his teeth as the fusion shifts, pressing its bloody skin against the charred laceration on his face where scales once were. "What are you doing?"

"There you go! See? It wasn't so hard to use your words."

He rolls his eyes.

"I suppose I've just had a change of heart. People can change, you know."

He lets out a tired sigh, the sparse life in his garden already withering away, and hollowly whispers, "Just... get on with it. I have an appointment with the floor to get back to."

"I'm sure the floor will understand. A surprise roommate sounds like an excusable absence, don't you think?"

"A sur..." He blinks. "What?"

"Well, it's not worth the trouble keeping it out here, and I don't really care enough to kill it, so you're stuck with it now. Let it be a reminder that your actions have consequences. Aside from that, I couldn't care less what you do with it."

"You're... you're letting me..."

His fruitless search for words is soon cut off by a sob, his flowers gradually coming back to life as he lets it all out, to Janessa's relief. That much of her plan is working, at least.

Once she binds the fusion to the gem, she dismisses it, leaving only herself and Ziri in the cell. She makes a show of dusting her hands off, not bothering to hide her excitement.

With an unsteady breath, he narrows his watery eyes with her.

"What's the catch?"

"Whatever could you mean?" She smiles innocently. "Can't I just do good things for you out of the kindness of my heart?"

A bitter snort escapes him. "Oh, there's definitely a catch, then."

He tries to stand again, but she waggles her finger.

"Ah-ah-ah. Stay down."

He sneers at her and continues standing up. Effortlessly, she jerks his denim lead downwards, and the strength of the movement is magnified enough to send him crashing into the floor.

"Stay down. Unless, of course... you want me to take your sibling back."

Uncomfortably rubbing his throat, he shoots her a wary glare.

"...You wouldn't. I'd get sad again. That's why you let me have them, right? So I'd feel better and have more entertaining reactions to your BS?"

"I never said I'd take it back permanently. I'd just... borrow it for a little bit. Have some fun. And then I'd return it. But if you don't like what some stupid, tired slime did to it for science..."

Ziri scoffs at the word.

"...Then you're going to hate what I'll do to it in my right mind for fun. You don't want to see what that entails, do you?"

He lets out a long, angry hiss, and finally mutters, "...No."

"What was that? I think you forgot a certain title I'm to be addressed with."

It's the moment of truth. Ziri glares at her with a seething rage. Janessa returns his gaze with a grin.

"...No..." He grits his teeth. "...m'lady."

Her grin widens.

"Never thought I'd see the day."

He sneers at her again, but to her delight, it isn't enough to mask his growing unease.

"Now, then. Elbows and knees, face on the floor." She snickers at his indignant expression. "See why I told you to stay down? I'm just so thoughtful that I wanted to make this easier for you."

"Easier," Ziri grumbles.

"Oh, did you forget the response to a command too?"

He forces himself to growl, "...Yes... m'lady."

Oh, the sight of him prostrating himself for her is glorious.

She plants her boot on his head with a satisfied laugh, and she makes sure to leave it there for a while, waiting until the tension is thick enough to cut with her dagger before finally addressing him.

"Let me make myself perfectly clear. I will allow you to keep your sibling, heal it, and help it however you please, and it will remain safe and unharmed so long as you remain obedient."

She shifts more of her weight onto his head, eliciting a whispered moan of pain.

"Should you disobey me, however, I will have no qualms about making it pay however I feel appropriate." Her voice lowers bitterly, and she has just enough self control to keep from outright stomping on him. "Such payment will be exponentially increased if you pull a stunt like that coup ever again. Understood?"

Ziri takes a deep, shaky breath. "Understood... m'lady."

"Excellent."

She lifts her foot. She can almost see him consider getting up, just the slightest little twitch of movement, but he stays put.

Excellent, indeed.

"As much as I'd love to keep playing with this new development, thanks to your idiot sibling, I have some memories to erase. Perhaps we'll continue afterwards. I may need to destress after such a ruckus, and come to think of it, I just so happen to have some blood I need help cleaning up. Sound good?"

"What the ju— je— what in the fresh flowery fields do you think the answer to that is?!"

"I think it's two itty bitty words."

After pounding the floor a while, he finally manages to vocalize something other than barely-stifled screams of frustration. "Yes. M'lady."

She drags him to his hooves with the lead and gleefully pinches his cheek. "Look at you, you're already getting the hang of it!"

"Fantastic. M'lady."

Peeved, he starts to shove himself away, but she jerks him back towards her.

"Oh, no, no, you don't get to do that anymore. Put your arms down."

Something even more fun than anger begins to stir as he obeys her, his hand clenched into a trembling fist. He hastily mutters, "yes, m'lady," before she reminds him.

"There you go~" She pinches his cheek again, more forcefully this time, and grins when he grits his teeth and lets her. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

They lock eyes for a moment, just long enough for her to watch his defiance melt into pure, delicious fear.

"Don't you—" His voice cracks most amusingly. "Don't you have to go... erase those memories now? M'lady?"

"I do..." Her hand travels to his hair, her fingers idly tangling in the curls as he stands perfectly, powerlessly still. "Oh, but rumors have already been spreading for days now. What's a few more minutes spent cooling off first, hm?"

"P... please. Please give me some time to... to process this. M'lady. It's— it's a huge change to take in. Please."

"Hmmm..." She curls her fingers into a fist and pulls him closer to her, giggling as he does nothing but whimper, before she finally lets go. "I'll take it easy on you this time. One last thing, and I'll leave you be."

"I-I appreciate it, m'lad— EEEEE!" Ziri shrieks and reels backwards as she whips out her iron dagger.

"Cut yourself."

He looks like he'd be pale as a ghost if he had blood to lose. Trembling, he chokes out, "With— with that? M'lady?"

"Yes."

"I-I've, uh— I've changed my mind, m'lady."

"Too late~" She holds it further out to him, laughing as he flinches back. "Take it."

"...Y— yes, m'lady." Slowly, he reaches his shaky hand towards the dagger and gingerly grabs it by the handle, nearly dropping it when Janessa lets go.

"Choose a spot. Anywhere will do."

"Y-yes... m'lady..." He frantically looks over his body, and eventually positions the blade above his left forearm.

"And give yourself a little slice. A prick, even. I just want to see you break the skin."

"Yes..."

He grits his teeth.

"...Yes..."

He squeezes his eyes shut.

"......Yes......"

He tenses up, willing himself to move.

"...I can't. I can't do it. Please. I—"

"Pity. I wasn't expecting to have to borrow your sibling so soon. What do you think would be the most fun punishment to inflict for your first failure?"

"Please..."

"I could turn it inside out, perhaps."

"Please..."

She smirks as tears streak down his face.

"I could unfuse it too. I could do more than unfuse it, in fact. I could take it apart bit by bit and leave its consciousness in every single—"

A piercing scream rings out.

"...Holy shit."

With a breathless laugh, she watches him panic over the dagger impaling his arm.

He desperately claws at it until it eventually falls out, too frantic to think clearly. Terrified even by how it bounces slightly towards him, he clumsily scrambles away, clutching his arm tightly.

All she can do for a moment is stare, unable to believe her eyes.

"You really will do anything for me, won't you?"

He wordlessly stares up at her, his wide eyes filled with the terror of a cornered animal.

"Say, 'yes, m'lady.'"

"Y-yes, m'lady," he whispers.

Oh, the power she wields.

"Please— please. I did it. Please send me back. Please."

"M'lady."

"M-m'lady. Please, m'lady. Please."

She eyes him a while longer, almost intoxicated by the sight.

Her favorite little toy is finally acting the part, and it's every bit worth the wait.

"Heal yourself. We're coming back to this as soon as I've taken care of those memories, and I don't want any of that iron getting in my way." Her smile grows just thinking about it. "I am not done with you yet."

He lets out the most pathetic little whine she's ever heard, and she can't help but laugh giddily as she dismisses him.

[cyberxilophone]

Phantom Weight

As usual, Tangle keeps snatching gems and relics from jungle temples near their base. Whisper should be used to it by now, but the Lemur never fails to surprise her. She's even more shocked to find that she's starving, but fortunately for her, the lemur brought food… maybe too much food.

Whisper took a deep breath. She would sometimes think that she had become completely used to Tangle’s shenanigans—years of partnerships should’ve meant that nothing would surprise her anymore—but the lemur always managed to come up with schemes that left her speechless

“Okay… why did you do that?” 

“Because it was shiny!” Tangle showed off the precious pink gem to Whisper proudly, smiling ear to ear. She turned the gem in her hands, almost as if she wasn’t sure if Whisper could see it. “I found it while I was coming back to base from my daily stretches. I didn’t know the forest nearby had so many secrets!”

“Let me guess.” Whisper grumbled, gloved fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “More abandoned ruins hidden in the jungle?”

“Yep! How’d ya guess?” 

Looking over to the chest full of gifts Tangle had… ‘borrowed’ from a bunch of local ruins, Whisper couldn’t help but fester in the strange, swirling mix of endearment and annoyance. She’d definitely need to return all the gems back to their resting places—the last thing they wanted to do is end up angering any ghosts or guardians leaving nearby. She already had enough trouble with Knuckles putting her under pressure to keep the Diamond Cutters away from Mystic Ruins. 

“Just a gut feeling.” The wolf said in a whisper. “But you said that you brought something else, right?”

“Oh, right!” Tangle extended her tail to reach the large brown bag resting on the kitchen counter. Slamming the bag on top of the glass table between them, the bag made a wet squelching sound—the grease that had accumulated on the bottom of the bag splashing against the transparent surface. “I brought food!”

Whisper winced at the immediately overwhelming scent of fried food assaulting her nostrils. “F-food? But we already have the leftovers from lunch. What do we need that for?”

“Oh, did we? I… kinda forgot.” Tangle rubbed the back of her neck, the peppiness written all over her dwindling for a second. “I was just coming back to the base and then I saw a new hot dog stand! And it’s like, a super cool new one that is selling the biggest hot dogs I’ve seen for ultra-cheap prices! I barely had to spend any of the rings in my wallet! It was a steal!”

Trying to push away the disgust from the bag’s scent, Whisper contemplatively rubbed her chin. “I guess that we can save the potato salad for tomorrow. I don’t think that we could freeze these, so…”

“Hooray!” Tangle jumped, cheering as she thrust her arms upwards. “Can’t wait to see how these babies taste!”

The wolf sighed in relief. No matter how much stress the lemur dropped on her, every impulsive decision only made her all the more charming. She couldn’t be mad. “Yeah, I think that we can have a cheat day. Can you bring the plates?”

“Will do!” 

As the lemur scurried off to the kitchen, Whisper stared at the gem resting right beside the bag. Squinting at the stone, the gemstone had a subtle pink glow that reflected against the glass table. It ebbed and flowed between turning a dull, grayish pink and shifting to an almost eye-straining magenta. It definitely wasn’t a Chaos Emerald, yet it still carried a strange kind of energy.

What have you brought home, Tangle? 

A sudden, deep rumble echoed through the base. Tangle turned around sharply, tail frazzling jutting straight upwards, and it took a few seconds for Whisper to realize that the sound didn’t come from a large beast outside. It sounded like the roar of a leviathan, but it was simply the sound of her own stomach loudly demanding food. As if she needed more confirmation, her midsection gurgled loudly again in a request for sustenance, leaving a strange feeling around her chest.

“Woaaaah! And I thought I was hungry!” Tangle chortled, pushing her tail past her face to hide her amusement—doing so very poorly, much to Whisper’s chagrin. “I’ll get the food soon, don’t worry!”

“I-I just forgot to get a good lunch, is all.” The wolf said while clutching her stomach. Being a mercenary, she never really suffered from hunger. Her years of training to conserve her energy and get the most out of every scrap of food she could get had always been in full force, despite living in more of a decade of peace. She never thought that her body could reach a state where she would eventually gain the same eating habits as everyone else. “Don’t… think about it too hard.”

The gem glowed once again, Whisper turning her eyes away from the blinding light. Five minutes with the gem, and she had already grown tired of its constant on-and-off shine. Without any further thought, she stuffed it in the chest alongside the other gems and statues. Even so, the gem still continued shoving its light into Whisper’s face through the keyhole. Furthering her indignation, her stomach growled again even fiercer. “Ugh, stupid thing!” She turned around the chest so it would face the wall, then stomped her way over to the dining table without a word.

“Looks like someone gets grumpy when she’s hungry.” 

Whisper was about to fire back with a response, but the sight of the meal served in front of her overpowered her mind. She had seen Sonic put copious amounts of toppings on his hot dogs, but if she was to put the hedgehog’s meal next to the ones in front of her, it would look modest. The sausage and the buns holding them up were large enough to need both hands to grab them. Atop it was a mountain of chili that had bacon, grilled onions, cheese, and fries swimming inside it. Most striking of all was that the plate clearly didn’t have all of the hot dogs served. Some more—at least three—were bulging against the cramped bag back on the counter.

“...How much did these cost again?” Whisper gawked at the giant hot dogs with a mix of awe and horror at the sheer exuberance of them. “Tangle, don’t tell me that you spent almost all of our rings on this.” 

“Not at all! It was only ten rings per dog!”

“Ten rings? That’s barely anything…” A typical hot dog was twenty rings on a good day. The thought of Tangle scamming someone was ludicrous—she didn’t have the smarts to haggle her way towards such a good deal—so it was probably just the salesman’s bad financial decision. She couldn’t control what everyone else did, so it didn’t weigh on her mind. “I just can’t believe it.”

“Neither can I! It was so good that I had to taste some before going here.”

Whisper looked down at the lemur’s orange vest. Only now did she finally notice the faint splatters of chili and ketchup—the result of a very poor attempt to hide her slobbish eating habits. Looking closer in a strange sort of morbid curiosity, she noticed that Tangle’s vest was slightly strained. Creases that weren’t there before now littered the garment. Against her better judgment, her eyes traveled downwards to the small bit of her midsection peeking underneath the tight vest.

“Do I have something on my face?” 

“On your face, no…” The wolf said, clawed fingers covering her muzzle. “How… many did you eat before coming here?”

“Uh, I dunno, really. Why do you ask?”

Whisper bit down on her finger. Straining in thought, no matter how far back she remembered, Tangle always had a slim, athletic build. Now she showed up—all bloated up to the point that her clothes looked like they were two sizes too small. Maybe something to do with an Eggman machine? Or maybe it was Starline doing another scheme of his. Hell, it could even be that the shady salesman that she'd bought the hot dogs from had put something in them. “I—” 

PING

Whisper shook her head. A strange, almost otherworldly buzz pulsed through her temple. What was she doing? Her train of thought had been completely derailed, to the point that she was left in the dark about her own thoughts. It was something regarding Tangle and the hot dogs she had brought, but besides that, everything else was smeared with a thick mental fog. 

“Whisper? Everything okay?”

The wolf heard a loud, droning hum pass through her ears. It was like the sound of a speaker putting out white noise at full volume. It was perplexing yet… relaxing—like her brain was being massaged by the sound. “Did you hear that?”

“Huh? Is something wrong?”

PING

“Nah, I just… thought I heard something.” 

Her stomach rumbled again, and instead of delivering yet another embarrassed apology, the wolf felt compelled to grab the hot dog and take a massive bite out of it. She shared her friend’s intense bewilderment—widened eyes as she felt her jaw wrap around the colossal meal. She bit down, chili splattering all across her uniform. It was no wonder how Tangle got so dirty with how hard it was to eat the giant sausage without splattering the toppings all over oneself.  

W-what am I— 

PING

She took another ferocious bite. The chili now smeared her muzzle too, but an intense—almost primal—hunger overpowered any kind of self-control. The flavor of the hot dog itself wasn’t even the main draw. Anything would’ve done it—all that mattered was the concept of quelling her sudden craving. Her fangs tore through the meat, bread, and chili like they were nothing. The sheer size almost beckoned her to keep going, calling to her and further stoking the intense hunger that she had suddenly been afflicted with.

“Oh, that’s more like it! I love a good eating contest!”

Tangle scooped up a hot dog for herself with her tail. She couldn’t put as much in her mouth as Whisper because of her lack of fangs, but she tried swallowing faster to make up for it. She barely chewed her food before gulping down, her neck prominently bulging at the large chunks of food traveling down her throat. 

In a matter of seconds, the sound of loud slurping and chewing enveloped the room. Never had they before engaged in something so crass, but there was something deep within them urging them to go faster—deeper—hungrier. They moved from chowing down one hot dog to two at the same time—one in each hand, alternating between them. The constant movement had made the stains grow larger and larger, to the point that almost their entire torsos had become smeared with the chili. For a few seconds, they would try to stop eating to wipe it away, but as soon as they did— 

PING

Amidst her food-driven haze, Whisper could see Tangle’s stomach further pushing out. Her vest went from just barely letting the very bottom peek out to show the entire area around her belly button. Her flat stomach had now rounded out, with flab beginning to spill above her stretched pants. Beneath the gray-furred blubber were her thick, overfilled legs; no longer slender, thin, and athletic but instead chunky hunks of meat that ground against each other.

Were we… always this big? 

Looking down at herself, she realized that her body had gone through a similar transformation. The white shirt underneath her jacket was likewise stretched across her new frame. Half of her stomach was tucked behind her jeans, forming a curvature around the top of her pants. The prominent outline of her stomach and belly button pushed against the cloth, and her once slender arms expanded within her jacket. The leather hugged her limbs, further restricting her movements as she inched the hot dogs closer to her face.

I’m… big? But I’m supposed to…

One more bite was all that it took. Her stomach flew forward with all the momentum that it had built up behind the trousers. Her shirt rode up from the sudden movement, leaving her midsection exposed just like Tangle’s. 

The lemur stopped her feasting, mouth hanging open with half-eaten food still inside as she gawked at Whisper's tan stomach. Her gluttony-ridden euphoria dwindled as the reality of the situation slowly dawned on them. Switching her gaze between her own stomach and Whisper’s, it confounded the marsupial into sheer silence.

“H-how did we get…?” The lemur dropped her hot dog on the couch, matting the couch’s white linen coating with deep brown and crimson. “I wasn’t this big!”

“M-Me neither!” Whisper grimaced at the hotdog. The sheer adrenaline flowing through her veins was strong enough to snap her back into lucidity once again. She was fully reminded of the absurd amount of fat and grease that the meal hosted and threw it on the floor in fear and disgust. “What is going on, I-I—”

PING

///

The ceiling slowly came into view as Whisper groggily opened her eyes. Her mind still felt consumed by a strange fog—almost half of the last day eluding her reminiscing. The last thing she remembers was sitting with Tangle and having a meal, but everything after that was just a strange blur of intense emotions. Her entire fur was matted with sweat, with the bed covers underneath equally as soaked in sudor.

Stepping from the bed, the springs underneath made a haunting creak—as if they were expressing relief from being freed of her weight. The mirror near their bedside table only further cemented the strange truth in her mind. She thought that perhaps the damage to her body wouldn’t be that bad, but the reflection that greeted her shattered that hope. In nothing but her panties and bra, fat spilled all across her body. Whisper’s chest had gone from a flat surface to sporting a pair of two soft, doughy mounds that pushed her bra upwards. Her belly had expanded to the point of pushing down to her upper thighs, beginning to cover her panties. The only way she could get a clear view of them was by grabbing her growing gut and lifting it up. 

The sight brought back memories; sprawled on all fours, pushing her face against the discarded hot dog while Tangle pushed her own hot dogs into her mouth with her tail, scarfing them down with the grace of a feral animal eating away madly. They didn’t even share words at the time, or at least they did it so sparsely that Whisper found herself unable to recall any moment of it. They tore through the bag of hot dogs without mercy, putting the remaining five on the table before devouring them.

This is crazy… And I think that Tangle was maybe calling someone? I remember the sound of a 

Looking at Tangle—asleep, sprawled out on the bed with drool leaking out of her mouth and staining the pillow underneath—Whisper saw that she was in a similar state. The lemur was definitely bottom heavier compared to her; her chunky, meaty legs were stuck together with clear lard hanging off the side, jiggling every time she turned and tossed in her sleep. It was like seeing a giant, bloated water balloon be rolled around. The sight was as mesmerizing as it was awe-striking.

Without thinking, she rushed to the lemur’s side. With each step, Whisper felt the ground underneath shaking. She felt like a giant lumbering through a world too big for her, every inch of her flabby frame bouncing at the sudden movement. The impact of each step made ripples travel across her blubber like massive stones dropping into an otherwise tranquil lake. 

“Tangle, Tangle!” She dug her thick digits into the lemur’s excess flab, desperately pushing her to make her wake up. The folds that had accumulated on her arm—saggy sacks of meat dragging on top of each other—jiggled as she shook Tangle desperately. Moving the lemur felt like she was pushing a boulder, yet the desperation pushed her to keep going even through the quickly arriving exhaustion. “Come on, wake up!”  

Tangle shifted in her sleep, trying to push away Whisper’s hand from her doughy arms. She was sleeping like a log, her large breasts rising up and down as she tried to continue in her slumber. The sports bra hat she always wore was now painfully overstretched across her large chest, and Whisper had to try her best to not let her eyes wander towards it for long.

“Mmgh…” Tangle slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes. “...I feel so heavy… what happened?” Her eyes slowly traveled downwards, the shock of the sight snapping her awake. “Oh.”

“Y-yeah, I know. It’s strange, but we first have to get out of here and ask for help.”

“Shouldn’t we get… y’know…” Tangle gestured at herself, then at Whisper. She was struggling to keep her eyes away from her companion’s curvy body, eyes darting all across the room in a desperate attempt to preserve whatever little dignity she could afford. “...Get dressed, yeah. We should probably do that.”

“We first need to find our clothes…” Whisper scanned the room, almost immediately noticing the pieces of tattered cloth spread around the room like confetti. There was a mix of blacks, greys, and oranges. The sight brought a retaliation to Whisper so intense like a sledgehammer to the face. “Dammit.”

“Don’t we have anything else?”

Whisper tugged on her panties, barely able to stretch them past a few inches. “I don’t think that we’ll be able to fit into anything else. We’re lucky that our underwear is made out of elastic material.”

“So we’ll need to go like this…?” Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, burying her head into her hands to muffle a scream. She let out a deep shrill that her hands barely manage to mute, maintaining the shriek for a few seconds. “AAAAAAAGH!”

Straining her throat—voice quivering as she reached her limit—she sloooowly piped down until she didn’t have anything to give. Pulling her hands away from her face, Tangle took a deep breath. “Yeah, we can go outside.” She said calmly, reaching her hand out towards Whisper. “Can you help me get up? My back’s killing me.” Said back was composed of multiple folds of fat stacked on top of each other, sagging downwards, and the sweat trapped between them lubricating the excess fat.

“Uh. Yeah…” Still transfixed by the sweat of her friend’s gargantuan frame, Whisper hesitated for a second before grasping Tangle’s hand. She tried pulling back, flexing the muscles on her equally flabby back. Simply shaking the lemur’s body was already a war of attrition, but trying to pull her out of the bed was straight up Sisyphean. She pulled and pulled, fangs intensely clenched as even more sweat traveled down her overweight frame. She put all of her body strength—whatever was left of it and not buried underneath blubber and rendered useless—into one intense push. “Comeeeee OOOON!”

Dragging her feet backward, Whisper tried her best to haul all four hundred pounds worth of lemur, yet her strength was futile against the gargantuan pile of gray-furred blubber. The sweat reached her soles, and against the slippery surface, she slipped. Without a steady posture, Tangle’s counterweight dragged her down to the bed. “W-waugh!” Her gut smashed against the lemur’s, their faces mere inches away from each other—Whisper able to feel the pungent, strong chili odor on her breath. “Crap, Tangle! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I—” 

PING

“No need to apologize.” The world had gone pink for just a second. Tangle could feel something that had bloomed within her. Something strong that was entangling all her thoughts into an obsessive, perverse desire. The slight shame of having her body devolved into a pile of excess fat morphed into a bizarre sense of pride that swelled within her. She had never felt more powerful and respect-worthy in her life. Her previous petite frame was no longer a pinnacle of athleticism, but a pitiful state of being that she never wanted to return to.

Looking back at Whisper, Tangle knew that the wolf was sharing those same blissful thoughts. Her usual azure eyes were now coated with that intense rosy hue that the rest of the world had been marred in for a few seconds. 

“Are you hungry?” The wolf asked, breathless from just rubbing against Tangle. “Because I am.”

“You bet!” Tangle cheered. “How about we get some breakfast to celebrate? I think we deserve a reward for working so hard.”

“Y-yeah…” The wolf giggled, clearly not used to feeling such an intense rush of emotions. Her hands wandered toward her breasts and gut, feeling them up now that she had gained a new appreciation for them. “I think that we do.”

They helped each other up, taking an excruciating amount of time as they dragged themselves out of bed. The bed could barely hold the two together, but the mattress’ high-pitched shriek only served to grow their swelling ego further. 

“We need to get a bigger bed. I think we’re too big for it…” Whisper mumbled. 

“Let’s make sure that we run it down first.” Tangle smugly said, winking at the wolf. “No need to buy a new one until it’s broken.”

Whisper’s mouth quivered into a wavering, shaky smile. “Y-yeah, I suppose that you’re right…”

Entering their living room, they were met with a mess of chaos and disarray. The entire floor was covered in food scraps and stains. Empty, food-stained plates filled up the living room desk, dinner table, and kitchen table. The crumpled hot dog bag was crumpled underneath the Tupperware container where their potato salad used to be. 

“Oh… I guess that we ate a lot more than the hot dogs.” Whisper said in a defeated voice. Her stomach gurgled as the lack of food left her body to despair. The strange pink hue that coated her thoughts and the world made her stomach all the more desperate. Despite having just woken up from an intense food coma, she felt like she was starving. The sensation was almost like her stomach was devouring itself from sheer desperation, her hands gripping her bellowing gut in pain. “Ughhhh! Man, we should’ve saved some food for today… I feel like I’m going to pass out…”

“Don’t worry! I think that I might’ve done something yesterday just in case something happened.” Grabbing her phone off the counter—grease stains smeared all across the screen that Tangle licked off almost immediately—the lemur checked to see if the call that she made last night in the middle of her gluttony-ridden stupor went through. A massive grin painted itself across her face as she looked at her order in the food app. “Yep! Ordered something for today. This app allows you to order stuff ahead of time…”

“Oh, how useful! How much did you order?” 

In tow, a knock on the door was heard. Tangle used her tail to brush aside all the plates, food scraps, and silverware from her path as she waddled towards the entrance. The shame of being seen in her ill-fitting underwear had completely banished, the intense desire for food now overtaking any possible humiliation in terms of priority. Decency be damned, she would get her food even if she had to get the door almost naked.

That resolve didn’t waver as she opened the door. “Heya! Do you have the food?” She said cheerily even before checking if the person behind the entrance was even the delivery man. She was correct, and noticing the massive package that contained many tiny bags of grease-filled food, Tangle snatched them from his arms. “Thanks a bunch, man!”

“Ah, um, eh…” The delivery boy—a short stout completely dwarfed by Tangle’s massive body—stammered as he struggled to properly convey the rush of adrenaline from seeing a woman so gigantic. Her protruding midsection just barely brushed against his arms, smearing her sweat against his uniform. “Y-you areuh… welcome…” He felt his entire face burning up, and before he uttered a half-hearted compliment, the lemur turned around—giving him a full view of her plump rump—and smashed the door shut. “Woah…”

The lemur unloaded the food onto the diner table, Whisper already having shoved as many plates as she could into the dishwasher while putting the rest around the kitchen counter. The very same large hot dogs Tangle dragged in yesterday were part of the giant food package, but they were accompanied by a large array of junk food; burgers with three meat patties—large fried donuts larger than their hands—family-sized pizzas with almost every topic one could think of—soggy cardboard boxes filled with fries and onion rings—and other pieces of food that had been deep fried. They were accompanied by five three liters bottles of cola—ice cold to go along with the mountain of savory food.  

Whisper drooled at the sight, her stomach letting out a leviathan-esque roar. “Do you think that’s enough for the both of us?”

“I can always order more!”

She giggled at the lemur’s enthusiasm. “Good point!”

Just like yesterday, the pair began wolfing down the massive buffet in front of them. Unlike the last day, they weren’t in a strange sort of haze that clouded their thoughts. This time, they knew perfectly what they wanted. They were going to consume everything down to the last crumb. That was the only way that they could possibly ever be satisfied. Their stomachs churned loudly as the food was digested at lightning speed. Each bite transformed into yet more fat to adorn their already obese bodies. 

Whisper couldn’t get enough out of the crunch that her fangs made whenever she tore into a deep-fried meal. Pizzas—boneless chicken wings—chocolate bananas; they were all torn to shreds by her ravenous fangs. The texture of the rough, fried bits let their greasy flavor drip onto her tongue. She was more than happy to eat food like this for the rest of her life, perfectly fine to leave her healthy war rations behind forever. Alternating between the mountain of fried food, she grabbed one of the massive cola bottles and popped the cap off. Not bothering to serve herself a cup, she began chugging down joyfully.

Tangle equally gorged on the giant buffet. She used her tails to grab giant clumps of fries, onion rings, and donuts to shove them all into her mouth. Her cheeks swelled up like a squirrel’s as she very slowly turned the food inside into mush. As soon as she gulped down, her tail—like it had a life of its own—pushed more food to replace the already consumed pieces of fried junk.

“Mgmh, this is so great!” Tangle moaned.”

“I need more…” The wolf gasped between bites, each gulp sending her down further into the spiral of gluttony and depravity. “Tangle, order more…”

“Hah, we’re not even done and you already want more?”   

“I-it’s just that I’m hungry! We need to make sure that we wear the bed down like you said, right?” The wolf nervously explained, clearly trying to match the lemur’s excited pace.

“That we do!” Reaching for the phone with her tail, she began opening up the app with her grease-coated fingers, once again staining the phone. “We’ll eat like queens!”

As she began opening up the phone to make the call, light began to pour out of the chest through the keyhole. It turned itself around as if puppeteered by a poltergeist, undoing the lock and bursting open to let the entire room be engulfed in the pink light. The pair didn’t even flinch, letting the mysterious glow seep into their minds. Their gluttony held them put on their seats, perfectly willing to drown in the pink euphoric bliss. 

“EAT AWAY…”

“YOU WILL FOREVER BE IN THE DEBT TO THE SPIRITS OF VITALITY.”

“KEEP CONSUMING TO FUEL US. IT’S YOUR DUTY. THE MORE YOU EAT, THE MORE WONDERFUL YOU’LL FEEL.”

“SO YOU WILL NEVER STOP.”

“NEVER STOP.”

“NEVER.”

///

The gem continued to float around the room. It had wrapped the entire house around its powers. It continuously cleaned up after the pair’s slobby habits. It initially didn’t want to do it—more than happy to let the two surround themselves with reminders of their debaucherous lifestyle—but eventually the piles and food piled up so much that it was slowly becoming inhospitable. The gem certainly wanted to keep its hosts stable, so it reluctantly cleaned up every once in a while.

Scooping up Tangle’s phone, the gem began to glow as the food app started up—seemingly on its own. “Heya! Ordering some more. Yeah, just leave it on the door since I’ll pay with my ring card!” It mimicked her voice perfectly, putting up the third order of the day. The gem already was acquainted with their eating habits. If it needed a reminder, the ear-piercing gurgling that came from their stomachs.

Looking down at them, the gem couldn’t help but feel prideful. Not even beds meant for elephants could hold them, so it simply moved them to the living room and dealt with the furniture to make space for the two growing mammals. Each one of them could probably take up enough space for one bed and a half—a great achievement. Walking was just a thing of the past now. Even if the gem hadn’t erased the desire to move out of their minds, the futility would’ve settled in eventually. It was just speeding up the process along.

“Mgghooagh…” Whisper breathed in through her mouth, struggling to catch her breath through the piles of blubber resting atop her chest, pressing down on her ribs. “Thaaanghle…”

“Y-yeah, Whisper?” She weakly answered, slowly turning her head, dragging her neck and all the rings of fat attached to it. “What’s…” She had to stop to take a breath, huffing in exhaustion from simply gazing at the wolf. “...Up?”

“Just wanted to… Mgh…” The wolf shamelessly let a surge of pressure erupt through her mouth, pushing out a belch that even made the gem wince. “Ugh… Tell you that you’re beautiful…”

“Hah…” She coughed loudly, wriggling her hands. “You too…”

[medfirstentcenter]

Septoplasty Surgery - Explained by Dr. Rajesh Bhardwaj (Award-Winning ENT Surgeon)

Septoplasty At ENT Delhi

Septoplasty is the surgical procedure to correct a deviated nasal septum (DNS).

Nasal Septum and DNS – Deviated Nasal Septum

The Nasal Septum divides the nose into the right and left nostrils.

It is made of Cartilage (malleable tissue – anteriorly), and Bone (Posteriorly).

Though ideally the Septum should be straight there is some deviation to either side in some individuals.

Causes of Deviated Nasal Septum

The child may be born with a deviated Septum due to pressures in the womb.

Injury- while growing up, or as a child while playing games, or sometimes after and accident.

Pressure of swelling like large growth/ polyp on one side of the nose can push the septum to the other side.

INDICATIONS OF SEPTOPLASTY

Nasal Blockage

Recurrent Nasal bleeding

Snoring and sleep Apnoea

As an approach or access to Nasal Surgery like FESS or skull base surgery

To repair a nasal septal deviation

Anaesthesia for Septoplasty

Local Anaesthesia – after discussing with the patient – only Local Anaesthetic is used along with some sedation

MAC- Monitored Anaesthesia Care- the anaesthetist gives pain reliving drugs intravenously, along with sedation.

General Anaesthesia – Full General Anaesthesia where the patient is completely unconscious.

The decision regarding the type of anaesthesia to be used is taken following a discussion between the ENT surgeon and the patient.

METHOD OF SEPTOPLASTY

Septoplasty is a very commonly performed surgical procedure.

In the Operation Theatre, after cleaning and draping the patient 2 % Xylocaine with adrenaline is injected into the septum so as to lift a submucosal flap. Cotton patties with 4 % Xylocaine and adrenaline are sometimes placed in the nasal passage as well to help shrink the mucosal swellings.

Depending upon the nature of the deviation an incision is made on the Septum and mucosal flaps are lifted and joined together – the septum is now standing freely and unattached.

The Septum is then brought to the midline using various techniques, including thinning out duplicated parts, straightening and morselization as well as using a hammer and gouge to remove bony spurs.

Once the septum is brought to the midline parts may be sutured – either at the caudal (lower) end or sutures to approximate septal flaps together so as to prevent haematoma formation.

Nasal packs are placed in the nose which are kept in situ for a day or sometimes longer.

POST OPERATIVE PERIOD

The post operative period is usually uneventful – the patient takes rest for a day or two. We recommend to work from home for about 5-7 days or till the wound has healed.

Normal diet is recommended- simple regular home food.

Lying propped up in bed is usually helpful

There may be some pink/ blood soaked discharge from the nose for a few days

Do not blow nose

No steam inhalation in the immediate post operative period

Must come for regular follow up visits as asked for

COMPLICATIONS

Though a safe and well tolerated surgical procedure, Septoplasty can lead to some complications.

Bleeding – in the immediate post operative period, or sometimes after a week to 10 days- a well known complication called Secondary haemorrhage. Treatment is usually simple.

Infection – every surgical procedure can be followed by a local infection in the affected area- a good antibiotic is usually enough to treat this.

Nasal Septal Perforation- in spite of all precautions sometimes there can be a septal perforation due to flap necrosis.

External nasal deformity- sometimes, if excessive supportive tissue is sacrificed the nasal pyramid may be affected – usually in the form of a supra tip depression.

Recurrence- though airway improvement is predictable sometimes the septal deviation may spring back either as a result of fresh trauma or due to strong tissue.

MedFirst ENT Centre Advantage - Septoplasty with Health Insurance and TPA Support

MedFirst ENT Centre specializes in septoplasty and is committed to providing a seamless experience for patients seeking this medical care. They facilitate the financial aspects of septoplasty treatment through affiliations with leading insurance companies, with a dedicated Third Party Administrator (TPA) team well-versed in handling septoplasty claims. Whether patients require care under a group health insurance plan or individual/family health insurance for their septoplasty, MedFirst ENT Centre’s extensive network and TPA team ensure smooth processing of septoplasty health insurance claims, relieving patients of administrative burdens.

Understanding how health insurance policies and TPAs can assist in covering septoplasty costs is essential. Septoplasty, a procedure aimed at correcting a deviated nasal septum, is often a medical necessity to improve breathing and overall health. To ensure a smooth and cost-effective septoplasty experience, proactive measures include thoroughly reviewing insurance policies, selecting specialized ENT clinics within the insurance network, and collaborating with TPAs for efficient claims processing. This proactive approach ensures that patients can undergo septoplasty with confidence, knowing their insurance covers the procedure, providing peace of mind during the septoplasty journey.

ENDOSCOPIC SEPTOPLASTY

With the advent of the endoscope ENT Surgeons are now performing minimal 

access Endoscopic guided Septoplasty surgery. You must discuss this with your 

surgeon- not all septal deviations can be corrected by endoscopic septoplasty.

#Septoplasty #ENTProcedure #NasalHealth #DrRajeshBhardwaj #ENTCare #SurgicalCorrection #SeptalDeviations #HealthcareExpertise #ENTSpecialist #MedicalProcedure #NasalWellness #SeptoplastyExplained #HealthcareExcellence #SurgicalInnovation #PatientEducation #ExpertENTCare #ENTInsights #ImprovedBreathing #NasalSurgery #AwardWinningSurgeon

[delhiplasticsurgery1]

Rhinoplasty Surgery in Delhi

Rhinoplasty Surgery in Delhi

Face is the foremost part of one’s presentation. An appealing face with all features in harmony is the key to one’s inner confidence and to be impressive. The nose is the central and prime part of the face which contributes to your overall facial personality. Thus having good aesthetically pleasing nasal features is the desirable need of every individual.

“Rhinoplasty” or more popularly called as “Nose job” is the cosmetic surgery procedures aimed at changing the shape of the nose and its structures to more pleasing one. This procedure which has gained much popularity in the cosmetic field and has become one of the commonly sort procedure.

Nose job can address multitude of problems like long nose, hanging tip, broad nasal appearance, wide & showy nostril, nasal hump, deviated nose. While all the mentioned indications are for cosmetic corrections, one can get help in improving his functional issues as well like breathing problems associated with deviated septum and narrow nasal valves at the same time combined with Rhinoplasty.

Surgical approach

There are two types by which this surgery is performed:

Closed Rhinoplasty: Here all incisions (cuts) are made inside the nose and there is no visible mark on the skin. This type is opted when only minor corrections are desired.

Open Rhinoplasty: In this the internal incision is extended to skin over under surface of nasal columella which heals very well and in due course of time the scar is inconspicuous. The advantage of this type is that we can do extensive corrective work on nose easily as we get full exposure of nasal skeleton.

To get the desired nose and the best procedure to achieve that, it is of prime importance that you consult your plastic surgeon who will then evaluate your needs, expectations, your medical history and your safety; following which a safe customized plan will be formulated which will help to get a satisfactory result.

Procedure

Once evaluation is done and decision for surgery is taken you will be discussed with the plan and all further queries will be answered. It is advisable to stop smoking before surgery for better healing of wounds.

Anesthesia

Most Rhinoplasty is performed under general anesthesia unless the procedure is a very minor and short in which case regional anesthesia can be given.

Surgical duration

The surgery usually takes anywhere between 2–4 hrs. depending on the issues to be addressed.

Immediate Post Surgery

Immediately after the surgery your nose is internally packed with soft material which will be removed after 2 to 3 days. You will have nasal splinting in place with tapes so as to prevent swelling and to maintain shape. In case patient had underwent osteotomies for bony corrections a hard splint will be placed to protect the corrected nasal bones. This splint will be there for about 7 to 10 days. Patient may have slight mucous discharge mixed with little blood for 2 to 3 days and will stop on its own.

Post operative advices

Not to bend

No physical exercises for 2 weeks

Not to blow nose

Sleep in straight position

No pressure over nose

Recovery time

Although gross changes are seen on table only but swelling keeps on decreasing and it takes about 6–8 months for final results to be obvious.

Sutures if any will be removed on 7th day.

Schedule Your Rhinoplasty Surgery in Delhi With Dr. Sachin Rajpal.

Name: Dr. Rajpal’s Cosmetic & Plastic Surgery Address: Sector 18, Sector 18A Dwarka, Dwarka, Delhi, 110075 Address: I-102, Second Floor, Block I, Kirti Nagar, Delhi, 110015 Phone: +91–9625 770 177, +91–9810 302 821 Website: www.delhiplasticsurgery.com

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[banqdanfnfic]

which, as they kiss, consume | jjk

you just wanted to get a tattoo from your boyfriend

pairing: tattoo artist!jk x reader

genre: established relationships au, tattoo artist au, smut

word count: 4k

warnings: unprotected sex, biting, making out, grinding, licking, nipple play, jk has a lip ring, oral (f receiving), fingering, shy jk and oc, sexual tension, slight choking, slight aftercare

♫ : Streets by Doja Cat, Candy by Doja Cat

♡ Aesthetics: Playlist | Moodboard

He visibly chokes on his glass of beer as he almost snaps his neck to meet your gaze. He could say that you were awfully drunk and hence the sudden confession out of the blue, but behind your heavy lidded eyes, Jungkook could sense that you were serious.

“You what?”, he gulps abruptly, moving closer to your face, doe eyes pleading to repeat yourself.

“Yes Kook. I want that tattoo on my breasts. I’ve decided”.

It’s not that Jungkook didn’t have experience in his career with inking on different parts of a human body. He just had never given a tattoo to someone who is romantically associated with him and the thought of seeing you half naked made him chuck down the rest of his drink in one go.

The most physical he had ever gotten with you was a kiss shared occasionally since it’s only been over two weeks you had started dating. Okay maybe you made out once in his car but that’s it. It never got to the point of shedding clothes or anything intense.

“Are you sure?”

You giggle at the sudden hoarseness in his voice and nod positive. Ironic how his aura never matched his personality. His inked skin, athletic body proportions covered in black monochrome bad boy outfits gave out default energy that he is a local heartthrob with multiple chicks wrapped around his finger each night and a heavy demeanor to carry in his smirk.

You were one of those believers until Jungkook asked you out in the most hopeless romantic way possible after constantly visiting the café you work in, a few shops besides his parlor. He was a gentleman with respectful boundaries, warm hands to hold yours and sweet sensual kisses though you are pretty sure he probably has a good game.

For any outsider it looked like those cliché bad boy and shy girl love stories, but for real both of you were a good percentage of introverts.

Jungkook runs his tongue around his lip ring while he is stressfully ruffling his dark locks into a mess. He is trying to explain his reasons to postpone your decision considering how shy he got at this point. But then that’s exactly why you were requesting him with soft eyes, it would be so uncomfortable to be shirtless in front of anybody else. Or maybe it’s your way of saying the relationship is open for higher levels of physical affection.

After debating around in vain, he finally hums and clears one of his slots for his beloved client.

Friday approaches way quicker than you assumed and now your heart is beating in your throat. Right after you are done cleaning the tables, you have to make it to Jungkook’s parlor for your appointment.

Running on three hours of sleep, black under eyes even after a decent amount of makeup, you groan as you check yourself out in the mirror. You opted for a simple shirt and skirt (also known as the outfit you bought for occasions with Jungkook), light beach waves resting on your shoulders. Hoping that a few cups of coffee will save you, you stride across the street to stop before the infamous parlor he worked in. Hopefully the full body shave and chocolate body butter has kept its excellence on your skin below the clothing.

The door chimes as it opens with a dragged creak on the musky wooden flooring. It felt like an otherworld where air smelled like men’s perfume and faint tint of cigarettes. In other words, intoxicating.

You ask the first person you meet at the reception, one of Jungkook’s companions at the shop and he assists you to his cabin located at a comfortably remote location.

His space is hidden with a simple black curtain. You are met with Jungkook’s back facing you, working determinately on a client’s arm and cares to spare a glance only when the guy with you is informing him about your presence.

“This will be over in a few”, he grins to your face and goes back to focusing his coil on the skin of a woman in her late twenties laying down his chair. The vibration from his inking machine fills in the silence and you excuse yourself to sit on a small black couch beside them.

This was the first time watching him at work and now you can understand why people rumored so much about his attitude because damn it is intimidating.

Brows knit together and inked muscles flex as he drags the needles around for finishing touches. Meanwhile you can pretty much smell the drool from the woman who is shamelessly checking out your boyfriend. Though you are pretty sure Jungkook gets such glances more than he can count every day, you can’t help but feel jealous. Partly because of the childish possessiveness and partly because you want to be the reason behind his dark eyes and intricate concentration, in profession or not.

To stop from mentally throwing daggers on the client’s way, you grab a random fashion magazine from the side table and flip through pages, though other four senses are inclined on your man. With a close attention to his low sigh you conclude that he is done.

The customer with now a fresh tattoo on her arm is discussing random useless topics to get him to talk, a very vain job realizing how Jungkook doesn’t bat a friendly lash at anybody, especially to those who hit on him. To be honest a large part of the ink business was linked with the obsession to attractive people who worked here, even if it meant trading an area of your skin. You grip the edges of the magazine a bit hard, not able to contain the sanity particularly at the high pitch voice she mumbles in before finally leaving his cabin.

A little excited and a lot nervous, you stand up as Jungkook bids goodbye to the third person.

He is quick to notice your discomfort, though not sure if it was the woman or the thought of finally getting the tattoo, he knew you were nervous and surviving in several cups of espresso by the dark circles slowly showing through the faded layers of your concealer. But nothing pulls down the opinion he has about you, beautiful and simple, no dramatics attached.

“Hey are you okay?”

You nod as soon as you sit down on the black tattoo chair, shifting a little to find a comfortable position. He is taking out a box full of equipment and fine needles, already making you break a sweat at the side of your forehead.

But more than that, it’s the way he is sharp and professional that catches your attention more.

You have never seen Jungkook this serious before. The choice of his vetiver perfume digging through your nostrils was driving you insane. If he doesn’t smile soon, you are going to melt into a puddle at his gaze.

“Are you nervous?”, he smirks this time, a newfound reason for your worsening gut health.

It’s mostly going in cycles at this point. Every bit of his skilled motion causes a vigorous hormonal reaction which initiates his next set of effortless teasing.

“I’m a little nervous”, you say, fiddling with your freshly painted nude nails.

“Me too”

It’s something you least expect to come out of his mouth observing how confident he looks right now. He basically has you cornered with his gaze. But whenever he had been truthful about his emotions it felt like a hug.

“I can take off my shirt too, so that we are even. Is that okay?”

He said it so softly like he is handling a child and the duality of the situation had your mind fogged and limbs frozen for a few minutes.

“Yeah it’s okay” It’s far beyond than okay. It’s great actually.

Jeon Jungkook is ripped, a Greek God sculptured masterpiece covered in self designed artwork you are more than happy to wake up to every morning. He hears you gulp at the feast before your eyes while he discards his black t-shirt to a nearby chair.

Now you don’t know if this whole thing is supposed to warm your heart or make you play several erotic fantasies like a movie before your eyes.

Both of you share a small smile while his long fingers are tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head.

He almost wishes you don’t opt to wear a bra but he is met with lacy black, a-bit-over your-usual-budget fabric hugging the roundness of your breasts.

It seemed like you were way too competitive about today. Anything less than complete awe from Jungkook for you was straight disappointment, you don't want anything less.

Well it seems like it did from how blown his pupils were at this point. He peels his gaze off your chest with a sharp gulp to look at your eyes suddenly devoid of any fear and staring back at him with all ease. He is filled with an exapnse of warmth and he isn't sure why does spending just a little amount of time with you had such a grip on him. He can’t wait to propose the idea of getting a couple tattoo together soon and as far as you know how Jungkook is, he is very serious with his body art so apparently he does trust you a lot already.

“Where exactly are you trying to get it?”, his voice is a lot deeper suddenly as he waits for your fingers to guide to his canvas.

You softly trace the spot at the upper circumference of your right boob, “Here”.

You suck a breath through your nose as his own fingers are mimicking your gesture, lightly pulling down the lace to inspect the fitting of the design at hand.

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

Jungkook traces each word on your burning skin, now leaning dangerously close which was questioning your control to put your palms flat on his pecs. He doesn’t notice that though, his mind is busy creating his own fantasies about the women under him.

After two minutes and twenty four second long of inspection and mutual thirst, Jungkook is selecting a bunch of needles to set into the rotary machine. Five fine sharp like a painter's brush moves in and out at a set regularity as Jungkook tests it out.

The next of his actions had you flushed into a pool of crimson. He gently lifts up your resting torso with one hand while the other is unclasping the hook of your bra, making you half naked for the sake of the tattoo.

"I'm going to start", he says shyly.

You still have time to save yourself from the growing phobia for the object, but another unlogical part of your brain says it's a piece of cake considering you have a whole distracting full course meal in front of you.

It stings at first. Well, okay it hurts like hell but your face is devoid of any indication, except your right hand is gripping on the rim of the chair for dear life.

Jungkook on the other hand had never felt this much diversion of mind during his work. He knows that you are probably hurting very badly, especially for a first timer. He is biting into his lip ring, trying to get this over with for the well-being of your pain and his hormones.

After he had scribed one word into your dermis, you are no longer able to contain the ache so you give out a small squeak out of your glossed lips and the vibration of the machine at his hands stops as he looks at you.

"You want me to stop? ", he is relaxing his face as he cups yours with one hand. You don't want to answer that question, but the drumroll of the current situation is making your heart flutter and everything about the little burn on your chest is forgotten.

"No. It does hurt but I'll be fine I guess", you whisper. His breath is mixing with yours slowly as he is leaning more towards your face. If it isn't for a kiss then you are likely to be disappointed.

"It'll be over before you know it. I'll make it quick", and then he kisses you, a small act to get off the pressure of sexual tension between your bare upper bodies.

Before you think of any tongue in the act, he is breaking off the contact and returns to his position on your chest. He misses the pout that forms on your mouth but right now both of your heads are in cloud nine.

The pain starts again, only this time you are busy reliving how his lips felt in yours; soft, firm and controlled.

You gasp when you feel one of his hands cupping your right breast to further his design but it's lowkey an act empowered by lust which is straining behind the so called professional eyes.

You just sit there flustered out of your mind and then Jungkook is suddenly squeezing, full palm hiding your breasts like it's a protected treasure, but he isn't showing the slightest facial expression other than determined eyes and his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Fuck you can't take it anymore. Jungkook can feel your nipples harden against his hand and his brain isn't helping much to concentrate on the design. But by the grace of some positive karma left on his side, he makes it through the long text and when he is letting go of your chest and standing tall, your skin is popping out with redness on the places the text lays embedded.

He fishes out a mirror for you to look.

"It looks beautiful thank you Jungkook", you smile.

"Can I give you one more tattoo on your left one?", he asks while you are contemplating whether going through the pain is worth it, not to mention you really want to get back at a private space with Jungkook as soon as possible.

"It won't hurt I promise", and then he is kissing you a lot filthier than before; all tongue and teeth, while his hands are grazing on the skin of your waist, pressing a little firmer than before.

The coldness of his lip ring rivaled around your mouth, and you try sucking on it to which Jungkook responds with a growl and pushes his body adamantly against yours.

Skin to skin, you are lost in euphoria of everything happening and finally, you roam your eager hands around his body, to his pecs and the definition of abs.

As your fingers scraped against his scalp, Jungkook is biting eagerly down your jawline to your collarbone and continues his ministrations at a particular spot which is bringing out melodic moan variation from you.

He is going down your skin, licking on your left boob before he starts planting violet tattoos as he had promised. As if it couldn't get better, he is massaging the right breast, in a way to soothe pain.

He loses it when you stutter his name, but he is just a fucking tease when it comes to making love and doing anything in a public space is the last thing he wants to do. There isn't much room for all that he wants right now.

"Why did you choose this particular tattoo Y/n?", he rasps while he is planting small pecks on his artwork, and you reply when he is finally eye level with you

"I just felt like it's a good one", your breaths are uneven and mostly caught in your neck. He pecks your lips before speaking, "Those are lines from Romeo and Juliet".

He takes your hands to trace over a line of text among the many designs on his chest.

which, as they kiss, consume

"We pretty much have a couple tattoo now Y/n", his breath is matched with your pace and you are not very sure how to respond to this new knowledge.

"That's… hot"

You break into giggles along with him, he just can't stop dragging his lips around your skin, but he isn't able to word his feelings right now either.

"I have some aftercare healing ointment for the tattoo at my place, wanna come over?" Now that may be a little lame of an excuse to get his little friend out of his pants but you are too unfazed to analyse any of that.

His hands find place on your ass under the skirt as soon as the door to his apartment closes, and before you know it, you are in his bedroom, sitting on the soft mattress and tongue lost devouring each other.

While eagerly getting rid of every article of clothing, Jungkook notices that you don't have your bra on beneath the shirt, so it's probably back at the parlour, but none of you have the slightest care for it, might as well make an excuse with it later to fuck you in his cabin.

He is pushing you farther towards the headboard, him on top, grinding sensenslesy while your lips mould with his. Though he has his whole body pressed against you, you can't seem to feel his weight at the slightest, every one of his actions were just balanced and perfect.

As Jungkook goes down on you, his smile is evident against your skin, finally able to find out how every one of those scenarios in his head will come to look like. He lets out a satisfied hum being finally able to suck on your tits, your fingers finding place on his hair, twisting it out of stimulation.

His pelvis is flushed harshly against yours, grinding and rubbing against your pussy for as long as he is rejoicing the feeling of moving his tongue around both the nipples.

He stops rubbing after some point and you whimper at the loss but his fingers are soon to meet your core as a quick apology. All your later moans are muffled on his mouth once again.

Feeling the controlled movements of his fingers on your clit, you dig your nails down on his toned shoulders. It's becoming impossible to reciprocate his lewd movements of tongue on your lips at this point as the excitement between your thighs is growing every passing second.

Your mouth remains slightly parted as he removes his face to watch you squirm underneath, lips swollen, deep red and glossy from all the saliva.

He pecks at the shell of your ear before going down past your navel.

You haven't had much heads in the twenty years of your life, most of the guys being completely against the idea which made you feel insecure to bring up the topic in bed, but Jungkook does it like his life depends on it.

He growls at the sight of you dripping into his sheets and he seems to enjoy the idea of being the influence behind it. But none is going through your head at the moment, not the metal on his lips grazing against your folds, or the fact that Jungkook is grinning each time you cry his name, it feels unreal to feel something like this.

His mouth is wrapping against your entrance and he is balancing your lower body on his palms to help him reach the right depths inside you. While all you can muster up is the strength to grope the bedsheets in your fist and close your eyes at the pleasure.

Jungkook brings his head higher to give some attention to the throbbing clit, catching it between his teeth and triggering the bundle of nerves just the perfect dose to have your hips jolting up to his face.

He can't take it himself when you are now whining and chasing for your release, so he is slightly humping against the bed to get some friction.

He licks a slow stripe up till your abdomen and slowly raises to your face, already fucked out and dishevelled to keep up with his dominant orbs.

He swears he had never felt so much warmth and care for sex with any of his previous partners, in relationship or not, all he could think is how good can he treat the pleading eyes underneath him.

"Is there something you like that you want me to do?", he says, fingers grazing once again to your crotch to not deny you from his contact. Only this time he is exploring the tightness of your pretty cunt with two skillful fingers.

Is there? You are not sure. Or in other words you are too caught up at the sense of him fingering you. It's not like you had enough experience or people who cared enough to ask that question. It astounds you that never in this entire foreplay he asked for any favor for himself.

"I'm not sure…", you whisper and then maybe you have something on your mind " um I guess I would like to be choked" Okay this felt embarrassing.

He smiles before sliding his free hand from your lips to your neck, and applies slight force, careful to not hurt you in the slightest bit.

"Is that fine?"

"Yeah", you muffle through the decreasing course of air.

He pulls up your face by the throat to attach lips once more. He just can't seem to get enough of kissing you senseless. Then, the tip of his long ignored cock is teasing the length of your pussy twice before it's stretching you out to the brim.

Bodies flushed and hot, his pace is deep and slow, making sure to kiss the cervix every time he is inside.

He watches as your eyes close shut and flutters around whenever he is grazing against your sweet spot. Both of your ears lost and eager for the moans looming out of each other, his more like what he sounds at the gym. Nice observation Y/n.

In this span of sexual energy you shared, you can make some obvious conclusions. Sex with him was surreal, both in terms of domination and the care he had. Rocking against him and keeping up with his hips was attainable— Compared to the intense eye contact he tries to hold, or the way he cups the side of your face and rubs the pad of his thumb on your cheeks while he kisses you during sinking back in, or the way his eyes glow at the beauty of your body open for him. It makes you feel special and it's difficult to respond to these gestures when you never felt this way before.

Jungkook could tell that from your face, but he hopes he lasts with you enough to help you know the worth you hold. You couldn't think too much about anything when you are busy squeezing around his length and coming twice in the first ten minutes.

By the third orgasm Jungkook is nearing his own and he pulls out to pump a few times before coming on your stomach.

"Was it okay?", his voice is all over the place, still balancing his body on his arms while you are amazed by his strength.

"It was amazing Jungkook", you smile. You have known a lot about Jungkook over the few dates you spent with him. That he likes literature, classics and philosophy, designs tattoos as a subconscious thing, that his game is A-1, and he likes working out almost three hours a day. Good for you. But it wasn't until now you know him to be gentle, like he is afraid to crush you under a feather touch. You don't know him as someone who is staring deep into your face after a good fuck, speaks nothing, smiles widely, and plants a peck on your forehead before getting off the bed.

He does the honors of cleaning both of your bodies with a towel, it's not like you have any strength left in you anyway. And then pulls out an ointment from the bedside table and plops next to your body.

"There. You need this to protect the tattoo", he takes off the nozzle and applies a required amount against the words on your chest and massages against them.

"Now go to sleep Juliet", he mocks, pulling up the sheets over you both "good night".

You snuggle against his hard chest, kissing his pecs before resting on it, "Good night Romeo".

thank you so much for reading!! please leave a feedback!!

★ taglist: @pjmochii (dm, ask or comment to enter the tl!)

★ credits: @/rainbeary on spotify : songs that'll make you feel everything's in slow motion playlist

★ banner & boards: by me :)

a/n: this is my first time writing smut and i basically died of second hand embarrassment during the process. pardon for my untalented ass, i tried this wip continuously for a week and i seriously don't think it could get anything better though it's probably not much.

© banqdanfnfic 2021, all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

[carol-effing-danvers]

hey hey make a wish (close your eyes)

(clicky for the Ao3)

He was fucking hungover.

Nothing too bad - his stomach felt like shit and his vision was still a bit blurry as Billy took a piss and lit his first cigarette, tapping the ashes into the kitchen sink so that he could fry eggs and hopefully use the food and grease to soak up the chaos happening in his guts right now from whatever heinous shit Tommy mixed up in that goddamn bathtub last night. And it was heinous - come to think of it…had Tommy actually cleaned that tub before making the punch? Ugh. Drunk Billy made decisions that Sober Billy has to deal with now. 

Anyway, his eyes were bloodshot and he could barely fucking see but Neil wasn't home and he was keeping it together pretty well, considering that he should like, probably be in hospital, all things considered. 

Maxine was still at her little friend's house - not those creepy boys, the only other girl in the group. Ellie something?

Or Billy thought that was where she was, but he paused with one hand holding the spatula and his cigarette still poised over the sink in the other as there was a loud bang from deeper in the house. 

"...Maxine?!" he hollered, just to check. 

There was another, even louder thump - fucking idiot probably fell off her own bed - and then feet running down the hall. Following that were the loudest, most abrupt series of crashes as Max sounded like she first tripped over the runner on the hallway floor and then smashed straight into the wall rather than having time to catch herself. 

Billy growled with annoyance as he flicked the burner off, his eggs scrambled but still disgustingly runny, though his expression was a frown of concern at the sound of the pained whine he heard as Max had to pick herself up from the floor. 

She scrambled into the doorway before he could go investigate - seriously, what the fuck, Maxine? - and for a moment, they just stared at each other, Billy in his damn underwear and Max still holding the arm she'd fallen into the wall with. 

He'd expected her to still be in her pajamas, but she was fully dressed (striped shirt, shorts) which wouldn't be that unusual, except that she was fucking filthy. Dirt on her face and hands and knees, dust and like soot or some shit in her hair and her nose- 

"Jesus H Christ, what the fuck happened to your fucking face?!" he demanded, unable to moderate his tone down from a low roar. There was blood rushing from both of her nostrils, staining the whole front of her shirt with gore. 

Listen, Maxine was a useless pain in his whole fucking ass and a little bitch to top it off, but Billy'd be goddamned if he ever anyone get away with actually hitting her scott fucking free. Maybe Neil had… part of him worried. But no. That couldn't be - he'd have heard something before just now, right?

And Max, bitchy little ginger, eternal spitfire, ceaseless fucking pain in his neck, immediately burst into tears and launched herself into Billy's arms. Not like crying, which would have been weird enough even if they were kind of siblings who did that shit, because Maxine never cried, no this was fucking…full on sob until you make yourself fucking puke, just goddamn hysterical bawling - Billy hadn’t even known that Max could cry that way and now she couldn’t seem to stop. 

Billy found himself hugging her back without quite knowing that he was. "What happened?" he demanded again. "If it was those fucking boogers-"

She wouldn't-like, he couldn't understand what she was saying, she just kept crying and Max was holding onto him like she was afraid of disappearing or something. He'd never fucking seen her do anything like this - if Billy was completely honest, it was scaring the absolute shit outta him.

Finally, he pried her tiny fingers off of him - Christ, she was strong for something so goddamn scrawny - and held her away from him at arm's length. "Maxine," he said somberly, knees bent to look her in the eye. "If you don't tell me what the fuck happened to you, I'm gonna find the first one of those creepy little assholes I see and cut his motherfucking balls off. What. Happened."

The last two words were said with a shake to her shoulders. Between the blood, tears, and snot she kept smearing everywhere, she was gonna end up with a bad rash on her face. And Max still wouldn't stop her fucking crying.

"Y-you are-are-aren't gonna believe me!" she sobbed, and then just clung to him again.

“Just…” Exasperated, Billy bodily picked her up and carried her out to the living room sofa and somehow she started crying harder while he did - Christ almighty, this child - “MAXINE, calm the fuck down, please. You’re gonna make yourself puke if you keep doin’ this.” 

He would know, too. More than once, before he was old enough to toughen the fuck up, Neil made him cry so hard he threw up. 

Dragging his shirt off, Billy did his best to clean her face off - losing this much blood, it was a miracle she hadn’t fainted, no wonder she tripped in the hallway - growing increasingly unsettled by the way Max kept just fucking staring at him, blue eyes held open wide even as the tears were still forming and spilling down her face, though slower now. 

“You are going to tell me what the fuck happened to you,” he repeated, though quietly this time. “Or I’ll find one of those little shits and torture it out of ‘em.”

He can see the hesitation in her face. “...they don’t know. Or…they don’t know yet.” She gulped, skin even whiter than usual, her next breath leaving her as a horrified gasp: “Dustin-! Steve and Robin-!” 

Billy stopped her from leaping off of the couch. “Harrington and who? No! No! Maxine - sit down and tell me what’s going on.” 

Although more calmly, Max’s lower lip still trembled when she repeated “You won’t believe me.”

“Convince me then, Maxine,” he said bluntly. “You sure as shit ain’t gonna leave this fucking house until you tell me why the fuck you look like you been clocked in the fucking face and you’re cryin’ so hard you almost made yourself ralph back there.” 

She squeezed his hands, drawing Billy’s attention back to the fact that she’d never quite let him go since practically the moment Max saw him this morning.

The entire time she explained herself, she never really stopped crying either, an occasional drop trailing down her cheek as she opened her mouth and started to explain.

“There’s something…wrong with this town,” she said quietly. “Don’t laugh, Billy, I don’t mean that Hawkins sucks like a small town in the middle of nowhere sucks. I mean that there is something wrong with this place, and sometimes…people get hurt.”

It should be a joke. It should sound like a prank. Nothing she said was something any sane person should take seriously. But her shirt was covered in blood and she never stopped crying and Max was holding onto Billy’s hands so tightly. The fear in her face wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen, ever known - and Billy knew all kinds of fear. 

But he didn’t know anything like this - this was like-like she’d seen something so awful that she could barely understand it herself and the way she spoke to him…Maxine was completely convinced that all of this shit was as real as could be.

Her little friend El, a monster made first of shadows that could eat your insides and then of meat that could eat your outsides, Russians below the mall, her friend’s dad being dead, and…Billy.

“It killed you!” She was full out sobbing again, that I’m so sad I don’t care if I puke kind, and he so wanted to believe that this was a joke, but was she holding onto him with the grip of a goddamn bear-trap again and she believed this, she believed every word that came out of her mouth and it had broken her in a way Billy never would’ve believed Max could be broken. “It killed you and I didn’t do anything and I don’t want you to-”

The sentence broke off with a loud howl of grief and Billy allowed her to sob into his shoulder, trying to pretend that he was super calm about this whole thing even as he thought What the fuck was in that bathtub punch?

He gripped her arms and shook her a bit again. “If this is supposed to happen on the 4th of July, how did your weird little friend get you back to June 28th?”

“I…I don’t think she did,” Max admitted, face raw and red - yeah, she was totally gonna get a rash at this rate. She glanced down at the front of her shirt, somehow even more gruesome now that the blood had dried into it. In a mutter, she confessed “Her nose bleeds when she uses her powers.”

Billy’s brows rose. “You think you have magic time travel powers? And you decided to keep that shit to yourself until just now?”

“Well, I don’t know!” she said with a pout. “...I don’t even know how I did it, if it WAS me. I just remember laying down on your bed when I got home that night, wishing that I could do it over again.”

“You made a wish?” he asked skeptically. “And you think that means you traveled a week back in time?” 

Max waved her arms, helpless little flaps that made her look like an injured bird. “I don’t know how else to explain it! Nobody was with me, I didn’t say it out loud!” Horrified, she said “What if I’m actually just stuck here?! What if I’m just going to live the worst week of my life over and over again?”

Billy rolled eyes at the teenage melodrama. “I don’t think that me dying is your worst week, Maxine.” 

Max looked at him then, unusually still and quiet. “...you still don’t really believe me.”

“You got it in one, shitbird. Good job,” he said sarcastically, getting up to finally get himself another cigarette.

Her little white face set into a stony, determined expression, jaw hardening. It was the first time the whole morning Max had actually resembled herself, he realized. Or Max as he knew her.

“Come on,” she said, marching to the door. 

“You ain’t leavin’-”

“No, WE are going to go so that I can show you some proof,” she insisted. “I’ll-I’ll find Hopper and he can-”

“...the sheriff?” Billy repeated warily, noting that Max had suddenly frozen with her hand on the doorknob. 

“Steve and Robin!” she blurted out, looking completely horrified. “Oh my god, we have to find Dustin and stop him!” 

“Harrington? What does Harrington have to do with this? Maxine-!” 

She grabbed his keys, shoved them into his hand, and began dragging him out the door. “You want proof - fine!” she told him, a bit hysterically, yanking Billy in the direction of the driveway - seriously, she was really strong for someone so skinny. Completely credulous she whirled around, looking Billy directly in the eye and said “We have to stop Dustin before he convinces Robin to translate a Russian code that gets Steve tortured and interogated in the basement of the mall!”

She was an absolute fucking mental patient, not only because she believed this shit but also-

“What are you doing?!” she demanded as Billy reversed her hold on him and began hauling her ass back into the house. “Stop!”

“You have lost your fucking marbles,” he told her bluntly. “But even if you have, we still can’t go out in public like this, shitbird. You look like an extra in a Freddy Kreuger film and I’d be arrested for public indecency if I go into the goddamn mall in my underwear, Maxine - go change your clothes, and hurry your ass up. I got shit to do today.”

“You…you’ll still go with me?” There it was again - that expression that worried if she took her eyes away from him, Billy would disappear. “You don’t believe me, but you’ll still go?”

Against his own better judgment, Billy found himself saying “You have three minutes to find a shirt that isn’t covered in your own blood. Tick-tock.”

[restapesta]

Piercings. 5+1 ficlet, but with piercings. I have a problem.

1.

Ian thought he knew pretty much everything about his husband. He knew him, inside and fucking out.

How could he not? Ian's pretty much been with him for a better part of his life, and they've had enough late-night talks to share all their demons with each other, however hard it may have been. They knew each other.

There was no doubt about it.

But, well. Ian should have known Mickey kept secrets.

He also should've known that one of those secrets was bound to put him in the grave one day with the inscription on his tombstone saying that he died from horniness.

Because one of these days, he would. There was no doubt about it.

It wasn't the most conventional way to go, but Ian didn't mind it.

Because, holy fuck, Mickey just admitted he used to have his ears pierced.

"Sorry," Ian balked at his husband who was standing in the bathroom, eyeing himself in the mirror, a pair of black studs in his right hand. "Did you just say you had your ears pierced?"

"I probably still do." Mickey grabs an earring and places it against the healed-up hole that is so faint, Ian needed to come impossibly closer to see it. Mickey had pointed it out to him after he initially said he was getting his ears pierced again. Right after Ian was left with his mouth wide open, staring widely at him, not trusting he heard him right. "And if not, I'm just gonna reopen them."

How did Ian never notice it? How did he never see Mickey, the love of his life, with earrings in his ears? With little patched-up spots of skin that were so plainly visible to the eye, now that he really looked at it.

Mickey grimaced as he pressed the needle against the hole, pushing and prodding against the uncooperative entrance. He eyed Ian in the mirror, eyes narrowing. "What are you staring at?"

Ian was stunned speechless. Of course he was. Of fucking course Mickey was about to bust out some crazy thing two years into their marriage that would make Ian finally break. Like having his ears pierced, making every single yet-undiscovered fantasy come to life.

He couldn't help but imagine Mickey with a nose ring, now. Tongue piercing. Eyebrow piercing.

Nipples.

Holy fuck.

Blood was rushing straight to his dick, and goddamn it, this was it. Ian was about to die.

Because holy fuck, the earring went through.

So did the other one.

And now, Ian was staring at Mickey, who was sporting black studs in his ears. Two dark diamonds that were obviously fake but could've not been, because this wasn't Mickey anymore. This wasn't the Mickey who rolled his eyes at anything gay—except getting pounded, obviously.

No—this was Mickey with earrings.

Ian's mouth was dry. It was dry as Mickey turned away from the mirror to face him. He stood in front of him, a determined look on his face as if waiting for Ian to call him out. Him, in all his fucking glory.

"Did you, uh," Ian finally stammered out. "sterilize the needles? I don't want you to get an infection."

"That really all you gotta say?"

Ian swallowed. "How come I never saw you with," He pointed at Mickey's ears, unable to even say the word. "those?"

"I was really young. I got 'em pierced when Mandy did. Took them out fairly soon, 'cus, you know." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

Ian knew.

He gripped Mickey by the shoulders pulling him closer. His eyes were on Ian's, but Ian's were on the earrings, and Ian never really knew he had a kink for jewelry.

Well, there was the wedding ring, but fuck, this had nothing to do with their relationship, and yet Ian was still sporting a raging hard-on Mickey had yet to notice.

"I love them." He said truthfully, mentally noting to get Mickey real studs once he got the chance. Not the cheap grocery-store ones, but actual diamonds that he wouldn't mind spending money on. Not when they would look so good on his husband.

Mickey blushed, pushing Ian away immediately, not getting away far, arms practically out so Ian could pull him back in. And he did, squeezing him tightly against his chest, careful not to place too much pressure on the newly-reopened piercings.

Mickey mumbled something against Ian's shirt, incoherent.

"What? I didn't hear you"

"I love you."

Ian smiled. Pulled Mickey away so he could stare into his eyes.

"You know you gotta let me fuck you with those on. Pretty sure it will be the best orgasm of my life."

Mickey only smirked, eyes lighting up immediately at the suggestion. He looks fucking amazing, Ian thought.

"Lead the way, hotshot."

Ian was right. With the earrings and the smugness—

It took him less than a minute.

2.

When Ian saw the photo, he was pretty sure he was going to die.

No, not pretty sure. One-hundred percent sure. Death was awaiting him now, ready to pull him in. He was already feeling faint, ready to just slip away into unconsciousness. He was going to die, for sure.

Or maybe it was just the loss of all the blood that was heading way down south that was making him feel this way, because holy shit.

Holy shit.

When Mickey took the earrings out after a few days of usage, claiming how they sucked, Ian thought that was it. Mickey was never going to do anything that reminded him of being gay ever again. He had probably been embarrassed and wanted to take them out, and Ian was feeling at such loss when he saw his ears vacant that he was ready to throw hands.

But, oh God.

Ian was now staring at a picture of Mickey—a picture he posted on goddamn Instagram for everybody to see—and it was him.

Him with a fucking nose piercing.

Ian checked the comments first. It would've probably been saner to call his husband and ask if he actually got a nose piercing and if he was ready to be a widow because Ian won't be lasting much longer, but there were a bunch of comments on the photo, and fuck if Ian wasn't going to leaf through them all. This could be a joke for all he knew.

Some sick joke to get Ian's hopes up, just to get them crushed down until he never had any hopes in life ever again.

Mickey with a nose piercing. Mickey with a nose piercing.

Carl said it looked 'fuckin' sick'. Lip was putting 😲 emojis all throughout the chat, sometimes even adding the 😏 one, probably a reference to Ian (at least Ian hoped it was). The other comments were just about how good Mickey look, which was really no surprise, but holy shit, did that mean this was real?

Mickey was out running some errand. Said he had some shit he needed to. That sneaky bastard. Ian didn't care if he was in the middle of the goddamn line at the Costco aisle or in the middle of a drug run.

He facetimed him.

When Mickey's face came into view, the nose ring present and very much real, Ian was lost for words. Mickey was biting his lip to keep from smiling and once he noticed Ian was just going to continue and stare, he scoffed.

"Man, it's just a piercing."

"No," Ian said. "This is much more than 'just a piercing'."

Mickey chuckled. "Well, I figured since I didn't really like the earrings, I could do this. It felt right."

This was the Mickey Ian knew and loved. The Mickey who wanted to try new things, get to know his own style. Mickey, who was finally confident enough in himself, and hopefully comfortable in their marriage, that he didn't even consider this a big deal. Ian was filled to the brim with emotions, and he was ready to explode.

"You need to come home now."

They met each other's eyes through the screen, blue glimmering in mischief. Mickey smiled. "Why?"

"Because."

"This piercing shit really gets you going, huh, Gallagher?"

It did.

It really did.

"If you're not home in ten minutes, I'll get the whip. So better be fucking home." With that he hung up, getting up to ready the supplies.

Mickey was home in eleven.

Ian knew it was fucking intentional.

3.

Ian might've been getting used to the fucking hotness that Mickey Milkovich with a nostril piercing was, but that didn't mean others were.

In the end, it probably didn't even matter that Ian was one million percent down for any types of piercings Mickey wants to get—he might have even been pushing him for a nipple piercing, but the why of it was for another time—what would eventually decide whether or not the earring stayed in was the reactions of somebody other than Ian.

It was unfair, really, that others would be able to affect Mickey's decision to finally do whatever the fuck he wanted to do, despite his ever-growing confidence. Still, Ian had a way of making sure that nobody made him feel shitty for doing something he wanted to do. Something for himself, without fearing the judgment of others like he had his entire life.

He was an arsonist, for fuck's sake. Let them try and eye his husband the wrong way.

Ian perhaps expected it from old, batty women at the grocery store who didn't have a clue what century they were in or Karens who were homophobic pieces of shit—but he never would be guessed it would be his own family poking fun at something that probably took guts to do. Because it took guts to actually get something like a nose piercing if you were a Milkovich with a past of growing up in a homophobic household.

"So, uh, you gone full gay now, Mickey?"

"Watch out, Ian, I think he might out-twink you."

"You look like Sandy now. Don't be surprised if I jump you."

"I think you look cool, Mickey."

"Uncle Mickey, what's that in your nose? Can I have one?"

Mickey didn't seem to really care about the Gallaghers' opinions. It was mostly just him flipping Lip off at the twink comment and winking at Franny for that last one. Ian, on the other hand.

Ian was the one who was getting fucking offended.

What if Mickey decided that all the teasing and sideways glances aren't worth it and he takes the nose ring out? What if Ian's deprived of sexy, liberated Mickey because of assholes like his own siblings?

It didn't matter how selfish it sounded. There was no way in hell Mickey was ever going to feel conflicted over something he didn't need to feel conflicted about.

So, the second Mickey was out of the room, and the Gallaghers were still unrelenting at the teasing, Ian knew what he had to do.

"Okay, that's enough," He said simply after the eight-hundredth joke about how the ring looked like a booger in his nose—what the actual fuck, Lip?—his voice stern.

"Come on," Lip said, despite the others clearly relenting, palms going up with sheepish expressions on their faces. "We're just joking."

"Well, enough jokes. You could be more like Liam. Tell him he looks good."

Lip snorted. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I asked you to?"

"He knows it's all jokes. He doesn't even care."

"I do." Ian narrowed his eyes. "I care whether or not he feels like he's done the wrong thing because you won't shut the fuck up after the joke's not even funny anymore."

That was what made the smile on Lip's face thin. He lowered his head sightly, as of bowing it down in shame. Ian knew he had finally caught on. Finally understood that, sometimes, even jokes could hurt people's fucking feelings.

Maybe Mickey wasn't at all touched by this. Maybe he really didn't give a shit about what Lip or some old-ass grandma at the store thought. Maybe it was only Ian who gave a shit.

But fuck it, he could give enough shit for the both of them.

If it meant Mickey would always feel comfortable in his own skin, then fuck yes he could.

"Okay," Lip said simply, and Ian smiled at him, thankful.

And when Mickey reappeared with a slight frown on his face and a, "what, no more jokes?" followed by a wide smile, Ian knew he had done the right thing.

Because Mickey looked good.

And the ring stayed on.

4.

"What is it with you and the goddamn nipple rings?"

Ian bit at his lip. Okay, he may have gone a little overboard. With all the research and the reference photos and all the places you could get one... But fuck, he had a fantasy, and he needed to see it come true.

Mickey with nipple rings.

Mickey with nipple rings.

Come the fuck on.

"Babe, listen," Ian started, moving so he was positioned against the headboard of their bed. It was almost midnight—what better time to lay it down on Mickey that he would look really fucking good with piercings in his nipples and that it would be Ian's dream come true. "They'd look so good."

"Then why don't you get them?"

Ian made an incredulous face. "Because they wouldn't look good on me. They would look good on you."

Mickey swiped at his nose, diverting Ian's attention once more to the perfection that was his black nose ring. How could Ian not see all the possibilities with multiple piercings when Mickey looked like that with just one?

"Come on," He said again, the image in his head even more vivid than before. "I googled it. It doesn't even hurt that much."

"I have a feeling like that is a very obvious lie."

Ian rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe it was.

He pushed himself back down onto the comforter, shifting so he could have access to Mickey's chest. He trailed a finger from his neck, then slowly down so it rest in between his nipples, laying out his palm so it could feel the beating of Mickey's heart.

"Imagine the sex," He whispered, trying out a new technique. Seduction. It had to work.

"Probably not until it's healed up and stops hurting," Mickey scoffed. "Also, I really don't think I'd like it. I'd look like a bull."

"You'd look like a very sexy bull. Oh, by the way, septum piercing." Ian wiggled his eyebrows. "Don't you see it? Don't you think it'd look awesome?"

Mickey looked like he was on the verge of either laughing or punching Ian straight in the dick. "I think," He began. "that I've created a monster."

"A monster who is extremely horny for your ass."

"Why do you have to have a kink for this? Ian, out of all the things. Just look up porn with a bunch of jewelry on the guys if you need to get off."

Ian frowned at the imagery. "It's not the jewelry, Mick. I've had hookups who wore a shit-ton of jewelry and it never made me all hot and bothered."

Mickey smiled at the hot and bothered part. "Dork. Then what is it?"

"Well, fucking obviously it's you."

Mickey's face lit up. "It's me?"

"Ugh, Mickey, we've been together for a while. Don't make me feel shy over this."

The exasperation made Ian's cheeks pink. Suddenly, Mickey was leaning in and pressing his lips to the heat, smiling all the way through it.

When he pulled away, there was a wide grin stretched across his face. Ian was a sucker for that grin. That grin was everything he needed in life. Nothing more.

"I won't get a nipple piercing."

Sadness. All Ian felt was sadness.

"But maybe we can check out other options." It was Mickey's turn to wiggle his eyebrows. "Tongue piercing float your boat too?"

Happiness. All Ian felt was happiness.

5.

Eyebrow piercing. It ended up being an eyebrow piercing.

And God. Ian was done. He was completely done with everything. This was it. This was all he ever needed to see in life. Now, he could die peacefully.

He was married to the hottest man alive. Ian could pride himself in that fact. Mickey truly was the hottest person Ian had ever laid eyes on.

Especially now that he had a nose and eyebrow piercing at the same fucking time.

Ian knew there would never be another man to get his attention again. Never anybody else to make Ian feel like he need to avert his gaze. Not when all eyes went to the Mickey with the hot body, amazing ass, great face, and perfect piercings.

"Maybe you should get some piercings, too," Mickey said as they sat together at the table, munching on cereal. "I mean, if you act this way over my shit, who knows how I'll act over yours."

Ian smiled. "I can't pull anything off like you can."

"Bullshit. You're hot as fuck."

Ian's cheeks pinked. "Shut up."

"No seriously," Mickey said as he got up to get more coffee. "Hottest guy I know."

Ian licked his lips, slowly running his eyes down his husband's body. "Well then, guess we both got lucky."

Mickey smiled and the piercings come into view again.

Ian really was a complete goner.

+ 1

"No," Mickey said once he saw Ian come into view. "No. No. No."

Ian grinned widely, tilting his chin slightly so he could showcase the tiny diamond—actual diamond—studs in his ears. "You like it?"

Mickey knew then that this was what heaven felt like.

He barely stopped himself from tackling Ian onto the floor.

Oh, who the fuck is he kidding.

He didn't stop shit.

[hxwks-gf]

» 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊

𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖎 𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚢. 𝚠𝚑𝚘'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐?

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚠𝚌: 𝟸.𝟼

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 & 𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

That familiar stench of thick, viscous blood stretched far across the open field in which you stood, breathing heavily with your fingers gripped tightly around the hilts of your swords. They, along with half of your face, were stained red with it. 

You were so tired. Every muscle in your body ached with exhaustion. But no matter how many Titans you viciously cut down, more and more seemed to take their place. Fighting them in an open field put you and the rest of the squad at an enormous disadvantage, and now you were paying the price. 

You clicked the bottom triggers and listened to the empty space within the gas canister. You had maybe one or two good forward pushes before you were completely out. 

“Fuck,” you muttered, sheathing the swords and wiping the blood out of your eyes. Looking around, you could see no one else nearby. You were completely alone after you had been separated on your horse by a handful of Abnormals. And as soon as you had vaulted from your horse’s back to attack, it got in the way of the onslaught of Titans and was ultimately crushed beneath one of their enormous feet. 

Their blood had evaporated, leaving behind only your own from a wound at your hairline. Your eyes were getting heavier and heavier by the second, and the soft patch of grass underneath a lone tree nearby was suddenly calling your name. Dying in comfort didn’t seem like a bad way to go….at least it wasn’t getting eaten alive. 

But the sun was already setting, slashing the sky with vibrant reds, oranges, and purples. You couldn’t remember what phase the moon was in tonight; all you could do was pray it didn’t give too much light for the Titans to walk around after the sun disappeared. 

No food, no gas, no back-up. In the middle of Titan country. No matter how you looked at it, you were fucked. The fields stretched on and on as far as the eye could see—the rest of the squad could be miles and miles away by now, having absolutely no idea where you were. 

You decided to at least take a rest under the tree while you figured out how much longer you had left, and what you would do with that limited time. You leaned back against the trunk and stretched your legs out in front of you, watching the sun sink lower and lower behind the mountains that loomed in the distance. 

It was strangely beautiful, you thought to yourself as you rested your heavy head against the tree and stared at the sunset through half-lidded eyes. The winds whispered through the grass and brought with it the scent of the forest, extinguishing the putrid odor of Titan blood that had lingered behind. If these were your last moments on earth, you weren’t complaining too much. It was as close to peace you would ever get.

Movement out of the corner of your eye made you sit up abruptly, nostrils flaring with alert. 

“Shit,” you muttered, seeing the gangly limbs of a ten-meter ambling across the field. You could feel each of its footsteps reverberating through the earth. 

It was the only one you could see, and you could take it down easily enough. But that would use up the last of your precious gas and leave you truly helpless if a more pressing matter arose in the future. 

You tapped your finger against the trigger of your sword in thought, weighing your options. The Titan hadn’t seen you yet, but if you moved, it most definitely would. If you sat still for long enough it just might pass you without noticing. 

Decisions, decisions. 

What would Levi do? 

“Tch,” you scoffed, glaring toward the Titan. You knew Levi never would’ve gotten himself stuck in this situation to begin with. And you could already hear the earful he would give you if by some stroke of luck they found you alive. You’d be stuck scrubbing the floors for months. 

You raised your eyes to the sun that had sunk behind the mountains, casting the valley below into hues of dark blue and black. The moon was nowhere in sight. Could you have been fortunate enough to have a moonless night? 

The Titan in the distance still meandered about languidly as the last few remaining rays of the sun stretched over the mountains. Just a few minutes more and you would test Hange’s theory about the Titans’ inability to move without a light source. 

It was getting harder and harder to see with each passing second, and soon enough your vision of the wandering Titan became just a dark speck on the horizon. The air was still and quiet, save for the whispering breeze that ruffled your hair and your green cloak. As you slowly got to your feet, your eyes scanned your surroundings to the best of your human ability and saw that you were completely alone again. 

Trost was east of you. You wondered how far you would get before the sun rose again or you collapsed from exhaustion. The wound along your hairline had stopped bleeding, but it was giving you an excruciating headache. 

“Just get as far as you can,” you commanded yourself, leaving behind the comfort of your tree as you started walking east. Your footsteps were silenced by the soft grass. “Push as hard as you can, and we’ll figure out the rest from there.” 

You could hear Levi’s voice in your mind. “Don’t give up on me, cadet,” he’d say. “Come back to me.” 

“It’d be easier if you came to me,” you argued with his voice aloud as you picked your way across the open field. “You’re the one with the horse.” 

No one answered except the crickets chirping in the grass. The stars twinkled overhead, as if trying to keep you company while you walked on foot in the most dangerous part of the country—alone, with scarcely enough to defend yourself, and no food to give you energy. 

If you were fucked, at least your last thoughts would be about Levi. 

“There’s still no sign of her,” Jean called down from atop the abandoned farmhouse. “I can’t see anything without the moon.” 

Levi tried his best to keep himself under control. Goddammit, why did she have to be the one to get separated from the group? He looked up at Jean and nodded stiffly. “Keep looking.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

He paced the length of the farmhouse with his hands folded tightly behind his back. He had half a mind to go out and look for her himself, but Jean was right. Without the light of the moon, he wouldn’t be able to see much of anything. And he couldn’t risk overexerting his poor horse. 

Levi felt a hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and sighed, wishing he could tell the rest of his squad not to bother him until they had any useful information regarding [Y/N]’s whereabouts. 

“She’s resourceful,” Hange said softly, and Levi let his shoulders relax. “And she’s smart. Too smart for her own good, to be honest.” 

“I know we should have made for Trost hours ago,” Levi muttered, kicking a rock with his boot. “I’m putting everyone at risk for making us stay behind and look for her.” 

“We take risks every day. What’s one more?” 

“You’re the only one who knows why I took this risk.” He glanced over at them. “You’re the only one who knows what she means to me.”

Hange smiled knowingly and patted his shoulder. “We’ll find her, Levi. I know it.” 

You lost track of how many hours had passed, and you could no longer feel your feet. Your legs felt like jelly. You could barely see straight. At some point during the journey, your wound had split open and dripped fresh blood down your face. 

You were so tired. Every inch of your body ached. 

Come back to me. 

“I can’t!” you sobbed into the open air, feeling salty tears spill from your eyes and mix with the blood on your face. “I can’t do it!” 

As you cried out in anguish, your knees buckled with exhaustion and you fell to the ground with a pained grunt. The grass felt so soft against your cheeks as you pressed your face into it, sobbing uncontrollably into the dirt. Pretty soon the sun would rise again, and the Titans would wake to hear your cries. You knew for a fact you had no strength left to fight them. 

Come back to me.

You sniffled, wiping the snot and blood from your nose with your sleeve. Levi would be disgusted by the state of you, but the thought of his repulsion made you crack a smile.  

With some effort, you rose into a kneeling position and tilted your face towards the sky. You could hear birds beginning to chirp, and the glow from the rising sun in the distance slowly started to illuminate your surroundings. 

You closed your eyes and exhaled softly, feeling the cool morning air on your bloodied cheeks. Mornings have always been your favorite time of day. It was quiet, still and peaceful, before everyone else in the world had a chance to wake up. You wondered if this would be the last early morning you would ever get to see. 

You opened your eyes and looked forward again, expecting to see Titans milling about. But to your fortune, there were none in sight. 

But what was in sight was a cluster of old, abandoned houses. A village. 

Shelter. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed, struggling to get to your feet. It wasn’t Trost, but it might as well have been a chest of treasure waiting for you. There would be rations hidden somewhere, and maybe a bed to sleep on. Protection from Titans. Maybe you would live to see another day. 

Each step forward was agonizing, but you ground your teeth so hard you thought your jaw would fall off to keep yourself from faltering. A hundred yards. Fifty yards. Twenty—

“Captain!” you heard someone shout. You froze in your tracks and tried to find the source of the voice, and your eyes landed on a familiar face standing on top of the one of the houses. It was Jean. You had found them. 

He slid from the roof and landed not-so-gracefully in the grass, running full speed towards you. 

“Jean,” you said weakly, reaching out a hand to him. He caught you right before you could collapse to the ground again, hefting you up in his arms and carrying you towards the village. Your head lolled to the side and fell against his warm shoulder. You couldn’t stay awake any longer. The last thing you saw was the rest of the squad running towards Jean carrying you, but the only face you could focus on was Levi’s. 

Levi rescinded his normal post at the head of the squad to sit beside [Y/N] in one of the wagons as they began their journey back to Trost. He still couldn’t believe it. She had survived a night alone, with no food, barely enough gas for one launch, and blades that were one strike away from snapping. If she had been anyone else, she would be dead. 

The others had said nothing when he held her hand the entire time Hange stitched up the wound that had split open along her hairline. They said nothing when he ran his fingers along her jawline and over her parted lips as she slept. It was as if they had known the entire time. 

Levi watched [Y/N] carefully in the back of the wagon, his grey eyes never once leaving her face. She hadn’t woken up yet, not since she had passed out in Jean’s arms after he found her in the field. He was concerned her head injury had forced her to slip into a coma, but Hange dismissed it. 

He vowed that once [Y/N] awoke, he would tell her how he truly felt. 

White light filtered in through an unseen window, and you were certain you were dead. This was what came after. Eternal blankness. 

But pretty soon your surroundings came into clearer view. You were in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed. Sunlight was trickling through an open window nearby, and the sounds of a city spilled over the sill. 

You blinked your groggy eyes and groaned in pain. God, everything hurt. With a weak hand, you reached up and felt the coarse bandage that was wrapped around your forehead. 

You had survived. 

“You shouldn’t touch your bandages,” a voice said beside you. “You’ll get them dirty.” 

You slowly turned your head and focused on Levi sitting next to you, a book in his lap. The dark circles underneath his eyes were harsh against his skin, as if he hadn’t slept in days. 

“How long have I been asleep?” you croaked, wincing at your voice. 

“Two and a half days,” he replied, closing the book and setting it aside. 

“Shit,” you muttered. You shut your eyes and swallowed painfully. “I thought I had died.” 

He was quiet for a moment before scooting his chair closer to your bed. You cracked an eye open and watched his furrowed brow and concerned expression as he folded his hands atop the sheets. Something was bothering him. 

“What is it?” you asked.

Levi didn’t look at you, but his eyes narrowed while he studied his folded hands. “Everyone I’ve ever cared about has been lost,” he spoke, and you could hear the emotion hidden behind the words. The muscle in his jaw twitched. “But you—you’re the first one to come back.” 

You were stunned into silence and the only thing you found you could do was stare at him in shock. Levi...cared about you? “What are you talking about?” 

“I...I thought I had lost you,” he said tightly, still not meeting your eyes. “I was willing to force the entire squad to stay behind and look for you, even if it put them at risk. I couldn’t leave you behind, not knowing if you were alive or not. I just...couldn’t do it.” He looked up at you then, his face hardened with determination. “[Y/N], I can’t bring myself to say the words because I’m convinced I’ve been cursed and you’ll be taken away from me again if I do, but…” he trailed off and focused on his hands again. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you said softly. “When I was out there, all alone and trying to find the strength and courage not to die in some forgotten field, you were the voice in my head telling me to get up and move. You told me to come back to you.” 

Levi’s jaw twitched again, and his dark hair fell into his eyes as he bowed his head to his folded hands. 

“And I did,” you murmured. “Because I knew you would kick my ass if I disobeyed an order.” 

A flicker of a smile passed across his face, so fleeting you almost missed it. He stood up and tenderly placed a hand on top of your head, ruffling your hair. His thumb stretched to gently caress your bandaged forehead as he watched you with those tired eyes. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, picking up his book. “Get some more rest.” 

You nodded and he turned towards the door. 

“Levi?” you found yourself saying. 

He glanced at you over his shoulder with his hand resting on the doorknob. “Yes?” 

Your lower lip trembled as you looked at him with glistening eyes. “You’re not going to make me scrub out the mess hall for being reckless, are you?” 

Levi arched an eyebrow. “We’ll find out.” 

Before you could sputter out an answer, he was already gone. You settled back against your pillow with a happy sigh and felt the exhaustion sneaking back into your bones. Another nap sounded nice. As you slowly closed your eyes and slipped away to the dreaming world, your last thoughts were of Levi. 

They would always be of Levi. 

[voidstilesplease]

xenogenesis

word count: >1k words | tags: extraterrestrials (mention), a questionable negotiation, aliens have invaded Earth and are possessing human bodies to survive, nods at Meyer's The Host

Theo hisses under his breath as he collides against a wayward trolley cart, sending some of its contents – a stainless steel tray full of unused syringes and blood vials – clattering and rolling across the sterile floor of the long corridor. Stiles doesn’t even glance over his shoulder at the noise and continues walking further away from Theo.

Theo swears. One guess on who arranged the trolley exactly along the path of anyone who turns the corner, in perfect position for a collision. Stiles is many things, and little shit is most of them.

“You won’t get there in time to stop the extraction!”

“And your shorter limbs can’t catch up to me in time to stop me.” Stiles angrily replies without pausing or looking back. “We all know the cryopod is barely fixed to sustain the Soul once extracted, so I don’t know what the fuck got into your heads to make this decision. Its best chance is staying inside its host,” Stiles makes a sharp turn to the left, and Theo groans as he picks up his pace once more. Stiles's furious voice carries even with his body out of view. “So, keep the human host alive to keep it alive. We are not killing my subject today.”

It’s too late to break his momentum when Theo turns the same corner hot on Stiles’s trail and walks straight into a portable lab coat rack this time, smacking the bridge of his nose against a steel rod.

“Motherfu –“ he curses, rubbing his injured nose. Having had enough of Stiles’s petty stunts, Theo growls and shoves the rack aside, unmindful of where it ends up, and shouts at Stiles’s retreating form. “I have already agreed to host it!”

A telltale squeaking of shoes halting mid-step echoes around the hallway following Theo’s statement. There’s a second of pause before Stiles whips around, whole body, mouth hung open and eyes bulging out of the sockets. Despite his raging jealousy, Theo crosses his arms and smirks in victory. Stiles has always boasted about being able to predict Theo’s next moves because in Stiles's words: 'he’s surviving on exactly one brain cell'. Not too predictable now, is he.

Spiteful, he watches as Stiles cries in his outrage and barrels over to him in long, fuming strides. It’s true that Theo can’t catch up to Stiles. It’s much more satisfying to reel him back in, anyway.

“Are you insane?” Stiles hisses up at Theo’s face when he gets close enough. “We spent years fighting them, doing our best to save as many human hosts as possible, protecting our bodies from becoming their possession. And you’re just giving yours willingly?”

“Oh, come on, Stiles.” Theo scoffs, shaking his head in scorn. He lets his arms fall to the side and sneers. “Aren’t you happy to hear you’re not going to lose your extraterrestrial boyfriend?”

Stiles narrows his eyes dangerously. Slowly, but with an obvious warning in his tone, he says, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

With venom in his smile, Theo closes their distance by another step. “You know precisely what I mean,” Rage builds inside Stiles’s eyes when he catches the knowing look from Theo. He starts shaking his head in disgust, but Theo doesn’t back down now that he’s got the attention he wants. “Sympathizing with your ‘subject’ is one thing, Stiles, but engaging it sexually? That is too random, frequent, and passionate to be related to your goal to assess your 'androgyne theory'? You’re fucked up.”

“You’re fucked up,” Stiles retorts hotly, nostrils flaring at Theo. “What, have you been watching?”

Theo scoffs, “You’re fucking the alien inside your lab, Stilinski, in a compound full of your fellow insurgents. You’re not exactly the epitome of discretion.”

“So, what’s this?” Stiles grits his teeth, losing his composure. “Are you going to use what you know to blackmail me?”

“I said,” Theo enunciates, slowly, to make his point. “that I will host the Soul when its current body dies – and we both know it will. It won’t be able to repress me like what it did to its present host – you made sure of that. We will cohabitate, like what your research always meant to test. I’m giving full consent. So, where is the blackmail in that?”

Stiles looks shell-shocked for a moment but quickly regains his faculties enough to accuse Theo again, “I know you,” he hisses in loathing. “Too well for my own good, Theo. You’re not helping Derek out of the kindness of your heart. You want something. So, tell me, huh. What’s in it for you?”

Derek. Theo wants to gag. He’s even addressing it with the name it chose for itself upon its initial inhabitation of the host body instead of the serial code tattooed on the left wrist of each Soul-possessed human host. Stiles is gone on this invader. And if Theo didn’t intend to use that to his benefit, he’d have puked from revulsion. But considering his less than noble intentions, he can’t really pass judgment. Because from the same terrain or not, they’re all creatures of habit – selfishness is the way of life.

“Well,” he starts, lightly brushing his thumb along Stiles’s jaw. He enjoys how it ticks under his finger. “You’re in love with a bodiless Soul, and I’m in love with you –“

Stiles sucks in a sharp breath.

steo a-z: part 24

“Use me to get what you want to give me what I want.” Smiling winningly, Theo concludes, “It’s a win-win situation, wouldn’t you say?”

***

[ghostdrew22]

Can i get a draco x reader where the reader is obsessed with the yule ball but unfortunately she gets into a accident so she in a wheel chair for a few days and draco likes the reader so he makes her day memorable by picking her up and making her dance like the scene in twilight.

Requested: Yes Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: a bit of angst i guess, swearing, insecurity, an injury, asshole!theo nott Summary: Draco x reader where the reader gets injured before the Yule Ball and Draco swoops in to make the night memorable for her.

WORDS : 2451

Not going to lie, I struggled a bit with this one and I ended up focusing more on the build up than the actual scene but I hope you like it because I’m quite happy with the way it turned out.

Lyric snippets I used are from “High School Sweethearts” by Melanie Martinez and they’re not in chronological order, I honestly just put them in randomly.

Anyway, love you all,

jean <3

<~>

“Y//N, I’m bored.” Draco grumbles as he sits down on your lap- resting all of his body weight on you and trying to annoy you.

You grunt at the action but get comfortable regardless- propping your chin up on his shoulder and resting your arms around his waist like you usually do when he sits on you for fun. “Well, we could go over plans for Friday.”

“If I have to hear you talk about that damn ball one more time I swear to Merlin I’m going to kill myself in the Black Lake.”

“Promise?” You ask perkily and he lifts up one of his hands to flick your head, “Sorry!”

You both laugh and he rolls off of you and into the seat beside you. “Okay but seriously, I’m bored.”

You laugh and shake your head as you get off the couch, “I’m going to do my muggle studies homework in the library- if you come along then when we’re done we can do whatever you like.” You offer your best friend and he tilts his head to the side as he considers your offer before grinning and jumping off the couch.

“You’ve chosen some very bad words.”

“You also have to listen to my Yule Ball ideas.” You add and he groans.

“That’s not fair-“

“Take it or leave it.”

“Fine.” He mumbles with an eye-roll as the two of you walk out of the Slytherin commons and toward the library.

“And damn it, if you fuck me over I will rip your fucking face apart”

“If you cheat, you will die, die”

“So I was talking to Theo and he basically suggested that we wear matchin-“ As you and Draco walk toward the library, and you relay all of your thoughts regarding the Yule Ball to him, you come across Theodore Nott. Your date to the Yule Ball- technically your boyfriend considering the fact that you’ve been flirting with each other for weeks- shoved up against a wall with another girl’s lips on his.

You and Draco freeze in the hallway and take in the scene- trying to decide how best to react. Draco takes a step forward- ready to defend your honour- but you’ve already yanked the girl away from Theo by her hair and swung your fist straight into his face.

“You must accept that I’m a little out of my mind”

A crackling sound is heard followed by the shriek of your voice- “You filthy piece of shit!”

Theo stumbles backward then grips his bleeding nose in shock- obviously not expecting you to have had such a strong hook- “You bitch!”

“I guess your mother and I have something in common then.” You spit back and his eyes widen in fury as he regains his balance and walks toward you.


“What the fuck did you just say?”

“I know that it’s dark and lonely in there for your two single braincells but I feel like the quip was quite straightforward. You are a son of a bitch.” You grit out with venom lacing your words and Draco sucks in a large breath from behind the two of you- watching the scene unfold and deciding that it’s best to let you handle it.

Theo laughs coldly and runs a fist beneath his nostrils to wipe away some dripping blood, “This is exatly why I didn’t make things official with you, you’re fucking psychotic.”

“Oh please, you’ve got to have something better than that.” You scoff and roll your eyes.

“If you can't handle the choking, the biting The loving, the smothering 'Til you can't handle it no more, no more Go home”

“You know what? You’re right.” He sniffs and bends down a little lower so that you’re both eye level- just so that he can patronise you. “You’re clingy, bitchy and honestly I could do a lot better than you looks-wise. You make me want to bash my head into a wall and the only reason I asked you to the Yule Ball, and flirted with you, was to get Daphne Greengrass’s attention.”

“Fine, since I make you so goddamn miserable we can end all of this here.” You crane your neck and shrug, “If you can’t handle me then you can fuck right off.”

“I will!”


“Theo-“ Draco calls out to the fellow Slytherin, perhaps hoping to talk him out of the stupid decision he’s about to make, but Theo’s having none of it.

“Oh, sod off!” Theo shouts back as he walks away from you and Draco and gives you both the middle finger.

You take a moment to breathe before the adrenaline runs out and the searing pain in your fist comes rushing at full force. “Ow, crap!” You exclaim as you hurriedly grab your bag from off the floor and start running toward Madame Pomfrey.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Draco shouts from behind you as he tries to run with you.

“Run faster!” You shout with a giggle as you turn to stick your tongue out at him. Then it happens.

You turn back to watch where you’re running, but it’s too late and before you know it, you’re tumbling down one of the many flights of stairs that graces Hogwarts.

~~~

“You’re such a dumb shit.” Draco mumbles from beside you with a chuckle.

“I know, shut up.” You snap back at him but you can’t hide the slight smile tugging on your lips.

After your beatdown fight with the stairs, you got carried to Madame Pomfrey’s and had to be treated for your fist injury as well as the ones you sustained from your tumble. She was quick to give you a potion for pain and immediately got started examining you- deducing that you’d sprained one of your legs and hit your head, but not hard enough to contract a concussion.

So now you’re sat in one of the beds with your leg hanging above you in a cast, a bandage wrapped around your head and one wrapped around your fist. Madame Pomfrey walks back with a wheelchair and gives you a stern look as she gently unhooks your leg and lays it down on the bed.

“Now, you’re going to need to use this for a week, then after the initial week I will examine you again and either remove your cast or put you on crutches.”

“Wait, a week?” You furrow your eyebrows and she nods, “But the Yule Ball is in three days.” You frown.

“You won’t be able to dance but you can still have a nice time.” She offers you a wayward smile and you nod faintly with a thin smile- trying not to think about how the night you’d had perfectly planned out for weeks is suddenly coming apart before your eyes.

She helps you into the wheelchair and then her and Draco have an exchange in which he promises to get you to dinner, and back to the dorms, in one piece. Then before you know it Draco is wheeling you out of the ward and toward the Great Hall, but you’re not particularly hungry and instead want to lie down.

“Draco?”

“Hm?”

“Do you mind just taking me to my dorm? I’m not in the mood to eat.”

He stops abruptly and peers his head round your shoulder so that you can see each other, “You’re not hungry? It’s apple pie night.”

“I’m not in the mood for apple pie.”

“Uh oh, what’s wrong?”

“You mean besides the fact that I technically just got cheated on and then landed myself in a wheelchair, leaving me injured and dateless three days before the Yule Ball?” You raise your eyebrows and he laughs, “Nothing really.”

“Okay that’s fair… You want to talk?” You shake your head in response and he nods silently as he thinks. “Okay, how about I bring food up to your dorm and we can sit and eat it in silence together instead?”

“I can do that.”

So Draco does as you ask, despite it being a very long trip for him, and drops you off in your dorm room before collecting dinner for you both and returning to join you.

“Give me passion, don't make fun of my fashion”

You finish up your dinner with a laugh as Draco shakes his head at you.

“That’s a ghastly dress Y/N.” He says as he looks at the y/f/c dress you’d originally picked out for the Yule Ball- before you realised that the cut was too small and wouldn’t be accommodating to your hips.

“Hey!” You gasp and toss a pillow at him as you both laugh, “Don’t be rude.”

“I don’t have that setting.”

“I noticed.” You grumble and sigh as you fall back against your headboard.

“Are you sure that you’re okay?”

You look down at your fingers as you fiddle with them and make a thinking face, “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay- not knowing, I mean.” He reaches out for your hands and encapsulates them in his own, “What he did was shitty, it’s not your fault and none of the things he said about you are true. But it’s okay to be confused between anger, sadness, relief-“

“Relief?” You raise your eyebrows up at him in question with a smirk, “Why would I be relieved that he called me a clingy and psychotic bitch?”

“I-“

“I mean maybe that’s arousing for someone with a degradation kink like yourself but I found that quite demeaning.” You tease with a wide grin at the sight of his frustrated and annoyed features.

“You know I was going to offer myself up as your new date but-“ He trails off as you cut him off.

“I’m sorry! Please go with me?” You whine and he laughs.

“Since you’re begging…” You throw another pillow at him and he raises his hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay! I’d love to be your date to the Yule Ball.”

“I know you would.” You smile proudly.

“Pansy will just have to deal.”

~~~

“You can't be scared to show me off and hold my hand”

“Draco, are you sure this isn’t too much?” You peer your eyes up at him- referring to the dress his mother had tailor made for you.

“Y/N, my mother was more excited than you when I told her that we were going together and she could send you dresses tfor you to try- it’s nowhere near too much.” He reassures you with a chuckle.

“Thank you so much, it’s truly exquisite.”

“No, thank you.”

“For?”

“Giving me the opportunity to take the prettiest girl in our year out to the Yule Ball.”

“I don’t remember convincing Cho Chang to lower her standards to yo-“

“Why do I bother?” He mumbles to himself and you giggle.

“Thank you, and you look great too.”

“I know.” He smiles smugly before walking behind you so he can push your wheelchair. “Now let’s go in so that I can show off my incredible date and best friend.”

“If you think you can be my one and only true love You must promise to love me”

After an hour of you and Draco sitting by a table- eating, laughing, observing how ridiculous everyone looks on the dance floor- you start to feel an immense weight in the pit of your stomach, a reminder as to why you’re sat on a chair instead of dancing the night away with your date, and you have to look away from Draco to hide the tears that are pricking at your eyes.

He notices the change in your demeanor and furrows his eyebrows in confusion, trying to figure out what exactly changed your energy so quickly- then his eyes scan the room and land on Theo dancing with Daphne and a wave of realization hits him like a freight train. He clears his throat to drag your attention toward him and you swallow hard before plastering on a fake smile and meeting his eyes. “You know, she doesn’t look as good as you do.”

You tilt your head to the side in confusion for a second before registering that he’s referring to Daphne. “Oh.” You look back at her and Theo, “I really want to believe you but it’s kind of hard to do that when I’m staring straight at her holding the guy that picked her over me.”

“Bu-“

“It’s okay, really.” You give him a wayward smile, “I think I see why he likes her and not me, she’s just better.” You shrug before continuing, “There was some merit in Theo’s words that day, I am a bit much too handle and I guess she just isn’t.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” Draco furrows his eyebrows at you, “There’s nothing wrong with you, you’re not too much Y/N, you’re just enough and he’s a fool not to see what an incredible person you are.”

“Drac-“

“I love you. And not like best friend love, like you’re my soulmate and I want to spend the rest of my life with you love.” He interrupts you with his confession before he loses the nerve, once again, to tell you how much you mean to him. “And I know that we’re still young, it sounds ridiculous of me to say something like that so confidently but it’s true and I just know it.”

He takes a moment to breathe before continuing, “You don’t have to feel the same way, I honestly don’t expect you to, but I want you to know that I plan to love you forever whether it be as your best friend or more.”

“You’re such a sap.” You finally breathe out with a soft smile on your face once he’s done, “I love you too, you fucking idiot.”

“You’re so bloody rude.” He grumbles out with a grin, “But you’re still the only one for me.”

“That I am.” You laugh out with a smile. “I’m sorry that I got myself injured, we could be having our first dance right now.”

He goes silent for a moment before a grin sneaks its way onto his face suddenly, “Who said we can’t?”

“What do you mea-“

Before you can even finish he’s standing up, snaking his arms around your waist and delicately pulling you up off of your wheelchair and into his arms. You gasp at the sudden movements and struggle to find balance in his arms but he does the work for you and helps you rest one arm along his while he takes the other hand in his own fingers and holds you up by your waist- with your feet resting on his. “Is this okay? Are you comfortab-“

“It’s perfect.” You cut him off with a content sigh and a smile as you start to sway back and forth gently.

“You’re perfect.”

“I know.” You giggle.

“Cocky.” He scoffs before dropping his lips down to meet your own- making you heave another content sigh against his lips.

“Merlin, It was about time you disgusting lovebirds got together!” You hear Pansy utter from somewhere behind you and drop your head into Draco’s shoulder as you both laugh at her comment.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Stab Me In The Front Part 4: Captain Asshat.

Intro: Steve’s being an asshat…and Katie isn’t standing for it. Throw in some alcohol and the return of America’s Asshole…and there’s trouble ahead!

Warnings: Bad language. Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So this brings the KO XO to an end. I hope you’ve enjoyed this little side path. Huge thanks to @angrybirdcr​ for her edits and banners

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Part 3

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

  “Steve…” Katie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before she removed her glasses and rubbed at her eyes “Why are we even having this debate?”

“Oh, it’s a debate?” He folded his arms. “Here was me thinking you were just point blank refusing to listen to me.”

“Oh I’m listening.” She glared up at him from where she sat behind her desk. “You’re just talking shit.”

“I’m talking shit?” He fumed, blowing a breath through his nostrils. “The guy is an absolute dick, and you just voluntarily invited him to your gala?”

“Yes, because this is about the Charity.” She looked at him. “And like it or not, dick he may be, he gave a substantial donation. It’s only right.”

Steve felt the nerve in his jaw twitch “Right?”

“Yes, right. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

“Are you forgetting what he said to you?” Steve looked at her.

“No.” She shook her head “I’m simply saying that I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?” His mouth fell open “You don’t care that he basically-”

“No, I don’t.” Katie cut him off firmly “And if I don’t anymore then neither should you.”

“Ok, so despite the fact that he disrespected my wife, and said some pretty disgusting things about you, I should just let that slide?”

“Yes.” Katie said simply, standing up as she turned off her computer screen before she looked at him “Because believe it or not I don’t actually need you to be offended on my behalf Steve. Now either let it go or don’t bother coming.”

“Fine, if that’s the way you feel then maybe I won’t.”

“And you call me a brat!” Katie snorted, as she walked past him towards the door of her office “You’re so full of shit.”

“I’m full of shit?” Steve snorted, and she stopped, turning to face him “You’re the one that is insisting on inviting that ass hole…I mean, even Natasha thinks you’re crazy.”

“Natasha?” Katie frowned, “What’s Natasha got to do with this?”

Steve hesitated and grimaced inwardly as Katie’s face rearranged into a look of understanding and she let out a scoff.

“You spoke to Natasha before me?”

“She asked me what was bothering me so I told her.”

“Damnit Steve!” She shook her head “Why is that you go running to other people about stuff before me? We’re supposed to be married.”

“Oh but it wasn’t an issue when you told her before me about what HYDRA did to you?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and no sooner had he spoke he saw Katie’s face slip. “Shit, Katie, I-”

“That was a low blow Steve.” She swallowed, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“Fuck you.” She looked at him, before she turned and walked off.

Steve let out a groan of frustration, looking up at the ceiling as he cursed himself. That really had been unfair, the two issues weren’t even comparable. He hated when he spat out stuff like that, because even when they were in the middle of an argument he loved his wife beyond life itself, and hated seeing her upset or hurt. But damnit, sometimes she just riled him so fucking much. With a deep breath he pinched the bridge of his nose and turned from the office, shutting the door behind him, the automatic lock sealing the room.  He made his way back towards the main common room, finding Sam pouring himself a drink.

“S'up Cap?” he asked, looking at Steve “You look like you lost a fifty and found a ten.”

“Oh, nothing, just had an argument with Katie.” he replied heavily “Said something pretty shitty.”

“Like what?” Sam asked. So Steve told him, and watched as the man raised an eyebrow and shook his head “Yeah, that was pretty fucking low Steve.”

“I’m well aware of that Sam.” he sighed, “Fuck.”

“Maybe you should swerve the Gala.” Sam shrugged “Give her time to cool off. I can’t see her forgiving you for that one so easily.”

“Forgiving him for what?” Natasha asked and Steve groaned, just what he needed.

Before Steve could stop him, Sam filled him in and Natasha looked at him, her face stony.

“Wow.” she shook her head. “What the fuck, Rogers?”

“I know, I know.” he said, holding his hands up.

“Thanks for dragging my name into it.”

“It’s me she’s pissed at, not you. And before you say it, with good reason…”

“I wasn’t gonna say that.” Natasha protested as Steve looked at her sceptically. She looked up at the ceiling “Ok, maybe I was.”

Steve rubbed at the spot between his eyes, he could feel a headache coming on.

“I suggest you go apologise.” Natasha looked at him.

“And pray.” Sam added “Because, damned, she aint gonna let you forget this one in a hurry.”

After thanking them, sarcastically, for their moral support to which Natasha snarked back that he didn’t deserve any, Steve wandered back to their living quarters. He knew his was a big thing for Katie, the night upon which SIP’s 6 monthly Fundraising efforts for the Women’s Charities they were partnered with ended, and he was so fucking proud of her for everything she’d overcome to get to this point. But he had basically thrown that in her face with his comments before. He was being a jerk, he knew that. He shouldn’t have let the fact she was inviting that dickhead rile him as much as it did, it was her event, her decision after all. 

Steve took a deep breath before opening the door to their quarters and looked around, his sharp hearing picking up no sounds. He headed into the bathroom, the shower had clearly been used recently, and he found her absence odd as she’d told him earlier that her hair was getting done for the event, and normally Franco came to her. He pulled out his phone, gave her a quick call but no sooner had it rung than it cut to voicemail. 

She’d red buttoned him.

*****

It was about an hour later when Katie walked into the apartment, her hair set in an elaborate braid which swept from the right side of her temple over to the left before the rest of her long locks were curled and fell over her left shoulder. She shot Steve a filthy looked and stalked straight through to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Steve’s head fell back against the sofa cushions, before he took a deep breath and decided it was time to face the music. He pushed himself up, walked into the room and found his wife sat at her vanity unit, digging out her make-up.

“Sweetheart,” he began tentatively, sitting on the bed “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

She glared at him in the mirror, but other than that made no acknowledgement that she had heard him.

“I was out of order.”

Still nothing.

“Katie, come on darlin’, don’t ignore me, please.“

"I’m ignoring you because if I don’t I’m gonna end up screaming at you.” she replied simply “And I’m not letting you spoil tonight for me.”

“Spoil tonight?” Steve frowned “That’s not what I want.”

“Well, you kinda already did in a fashion.” she shrugged “Now if you don’t mind I need to get ready. And your presence is not required. Either in this room, or the gala.”

Steve felt his face fall at that and he looked at her in the mirror as her green eyes locked on his “You don’t want me to come?”

“No." 

"Ok.” he swallowed, fighting to keep his voice calm. “Then I respect your wishes.”

With that he stood up, and left.

As soon as he had shut the door behind him, Katie let out a sigh, her face falling into her hands as her elbows rest on the vanity unit in front of her.  Steve’s face when she’d told him she didn’t want him at the gala had made her heart ache, he’d looked like a little puppy she had just given a harsh kick to. But she was so angry at him, she didn’t even know where to start. He was being an absolute dick over something that really wasn’t that big an issue, and then his dig about comparing him speaking to Natasha about what had happened to her…well, that was as low a blow as you could possibly get. At the time she’d been upset, angry even…now she was almost just shocked that Captain America had it in him to be so damned nasty.

Wanda had been astounded when she had told her what he had said, giving her that as a reason as to why Franco was going to be doing their hair in her room, not Katie’s apartment. Then, when Natasha had turned up, the Red Head had told Katie she had informed Steve he was out of order, but also that he seemed genuinely contrite as well when he had been talking to her and Sam.

Katie knew he was sorry, she didn’t need Natasha to point out that Steve had said what he had it in the haste of an argument. She knew only too well herself that in the heat of the moment people said things they didn’t really mean. But he wasn’t getting off so easily. He accused her of being a brat often enough and here he was acting like one.

So, with that in mind, she’d told him to stay behind. She knew full well that he would show up anyway after an hour or so of brooding, with another apology which she might be ready to accept at that point. But until then, he could fucking stew a little, think about what he had said some more

Raising her head she looked at herself in the mirror before she set about doing her make-up. It took her about 30 minutes to perfect the look she was going for, a dark smoky eye effect with bright rub red lips, another thing she knew drove Steve wild, before she stood up and grabbed her dress out of the wardrobe. It was a skin tight deep red mermaid style Dolce number, which sat off her shoulders with a small v neckline. She knew she looked good in it, which was why she had bought it in the first place along with a matching tie for Captain Asshat. Once she was in, she struggled with the zip which was at the back and after getting it most of the way up, instead of asking said Asshat for help she decided she would get Wanda or Nat to fix it. She stepped into her trusty gold Jimmy Choos before giving herself the once over. Satisfied with the results, she opened the door and walked down the hallway to the living room.

Steve looked up as Katie strode into the living room and felt his jaw drop. He really shouldn’t be surprised anymore at how stunning she managed to look when she was dolled up, but she still took his breath away every time he saw her. She looked great all the time in his eyes anyway but…damned.

She sauntered past him, without so much as a glance in his direction and he took a deep breath. To comment or not to comment now was the big question. Whatever he did or said he was going to be wrong in her eyes so…

Oh fuck it, in for a penny.

“You look stunning.” His head turned to watch her as she walked passed him heading for the door.

“Thanks.” She said, her tone clipped. But that was more of a response than he had expected. He hesitated for a second, about to offer to walk her down to the Marquee, even though she would likely refuse, but he stopped as he saw the back of her dress wasn’t quite done up.

“Honey, your zip.”

“I know.” She opened the door as he crossed the room towards her. “I can’t quite reach it…”

“Why didn’t you just ask?” He sighed, his hand going to help but she jerked away and spun round.

“I’ll get Wanda or Nat to do it.” She said simply.

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously and he knew why. That was the single worst thing he could say to he when she was in this type of mood but he was beyond the point of caring now. She was being ridiculous.

“Look, I know I was out of order, but I’ve apologised. What else do you want me to say?” he asked, looking at her.

“Don’t wait up.” Her voice was steely, and with that she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

He debated for a second if he should go after her, but his own anger won out. Instead he turned round and walked straight to the cabinet they kept their liquor in. Finding what he wanted, a bottle of that Asgardian dynamite stuff Thor had left, he pulled it out, grabbed himself a tumbler and headed back to the couch.

*****

For the next hour or so Katie was too busy to even give Steve a second thought. She welcomed the guests and the limited press that had been invited, Evans and Sam providing her back up checking off the guest list, for which she gratefully thanked them both. She was just at the bar talking to one of the Charity Organisers when she felt a gentle touch on her elbow. She turned and beamed at the man stood in front of her.

“Harlan!” she smiled, as he leant down to gently kiss her cheek “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” he smiled back. “How are you Mrs Rogers?”

“Good, thank you.” she nodded “It’s been busy but definitely worth it.”

“Well the predicted figures look good.” he nodded “You’ve raised a lot of money.”

“Yeah, it’s gone better than I could have ever hoped.” she agreed “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

Harlan waved away her comment and looked back over his shoulder. Katie followed his gaze and saw the man that had caused all the trouble between her and Steve, leaning at the bar. He was dressed in a smart, pin striped suit, his hair slicked back and his jaw clean shaven as ever.

“He came then.” she said, and Harlan turned back to her giving a low chuckle.

“Yes, you made quite an impression on him. I’ve never heard of him donating money to a charity before.” he mused

“Probably guilty he behaved like an ass hole.” she said, before she shook her head “Sorry, that was rude.”

“No more than he deserves.” Harlan sighed “The sad thing is, he’s not a bad man underneath it all. I see a lot of myself in him, just wish he would apply himself better to something. I’ve even tried to get him involved in the publishing company but he just isn’t interested. Suppose you can’t polish a turd.”

Katie let out a huge snort of laughter at the phrase tumbling from the old man’s lips and he gave her a large grin from behind his white beard as she shook her head “Now that’s a quote for your next book.”

Harlan chuckled again before Tony appeared by her side with a glass of champagne.

“Mr Stark.” Harlan shook his hand as Tony smiled at him.

“Mr Thrombey, pleasure.” he said, before he turned to Katie “Where’s Spangles?”

“Busy.” she said simply. Tony arched an eyebrow at him and she gave him a look, which he met with one of his own.

“Doing what?”

“Stuff.”

“Wow, yeah, that stuff…it’s…a pain…” Tony said, and Katie gave him a glare before she glanced around and Harlan struck up a chat with Tony about the latest Stark Industries initiative into wind farms. Natasha caught her eye and she excused herself and wandered over but as she was crossing the room, Ransom stepped into her path.

“Mr Drysdale.” she looked at him “No tatty sweater?”

He gave a huff of a laugh “No, I only wear the cable knit on special occasions.”

“Good to know.” she raised an eyebrow.

“So where’s your guard dog?” he asked, looking around.

“If you mean Steve, he’s otherwise engaged.” She said, shrugging “No doubt he’ll be along later.”

“Well in that case can I get you a drink?”

“It’s a free bar.”

“Yes, but I can still get you one.”

“I’m good thanks.” she waved the half full flute in her hand. “Now if you’ll excuse me for a second, I need to speak to someone.”

“Oh, Doll, I thought we left things on better terms.” he sighed, placing his hand over his heart, looking at her. Katie cocked her head to one side, before she flashed him a grin.

“I doubt you’re capable of leaving it on good terms with any girl you cross paths with.”

“Never had any complaints.” he smirked. At that Katie snorted.

“Well you can’t be meeting with the right women.” she said simply, and with that she moved past him, and headed over to Natasha who was beckoning her over.

“Everything ok?” she asked and Natasha nodded.

“Yup.I just got you a surprise.” she smiled.

“A surprise?” Katie frowned.

“Seeing as its a special occasion.” Natasha continued, linking her arm through Katie’s. She led her through to the entrance of the Marquee where a familiar face was stood talking to Evans, Sam and Wanda,

“S'up Nova?” Clint grinned at her as she gave a laugh and threw herself at him.

“What are you doing here?” she spluttered as he released her, stepping back slightly.

“Couldn’t miss your big event.” he smiled “You look great. Where’s Cap?”

“In the dog house.” Nat spoke before Katie could. Katie sighed and shot Natasha a look before she turned back to Clint.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” she shook her head. “Now, come on, fill me in…how are the kids? Laura?”

She didn’t miss the look that Wanda, Sam and Natasha shared but chose to ignore it as she steered Clint towards the bar for a well overdue catch up.

*****

Steve drained his glass and poured himself another measure. Katie had been gone for just under two hours now and his mood was rapidly growing worse. More so because deep down he knew this was his own stupid fault. Because of his inability to keep his, albeit in his opinion justified, issue about Ransom fucking Drysdale to himself, his wife was now going through probably one of the biggest nights of her life without him there. And what made it worse was that smarmy bastard was there, probably eyeing her up, like he had done at the last gala, making some dickhead comment or other which he would no doubt weasel his way out of by sending another cheque for a ludicrous amount. Steve hated that, people that thought money made everything ok. And what was worse, it seemed to have placated Katie as well. He took a mouthful of his drink, the burn in his throat pleasantly distracting him for a moment, before he stared at the TV.

No, fuck this… this was his wife, his damned compound.

Necking his drink he stood up, the liquor giving him a pleasant buzz, before he strode into the bedroom, stripping off his sweater and jeans before he pulled his suit out of the closet. Slipping his arms into his shirt, he buttoned it up before expertly tying the tie Katie had bought him in a double Windsor, before grabbing his jacket. Once one he straightened his hair, slipped on his shoes he headed out of the door, making his way out of the side of the building, striding over to the marquee which was buzzing with people.

“Oh here he is.” Sam grinned at him “You’re a brave man, Cap.”

“Shut up Sam.” he said, rolling his eyes.

Sam chuckled as Evans raised an eyebrow. “Should I check he’s on the list?” he drawled, his Texan accent thick.

“I think Katie crossed him off.” Sam teased.

“Hilarious.” Steve deadpanned, stepping past them into the Marquee. His eyes quickly roved the crowd and he did a double take as he saw Clint with Natasha and Wanda at the bar. He’d had no idea the archer was coming, but right now he was looking for his wife, the reunion could wait. He continued to scan the Marquee and he spotted her and then felt his jaw clench as he saw she was stood with him. As he watched he saw her say something and she tipped her head back in genuine laughter, and touched his arm before she shook her head, and turned to someone else who had attracted her attention. Giving a nod she looked back to Ransom and he nodded, as she walked away.

“Spangles.” Tony greeted appearing at his side. “What’s going on?”

“Ask your sister.” he said, his voice stony. “I need a fucking drink.”

With that he strode over to the bar. Ordering himself a large scotch he turned to look for Katie again, but there was no sign of her. With a nod of acknowledgment to the guy behind the bar he took his drink and turned to look back over the room. He spotted a few familiar faces from the compound and the tower, nodding towards Pepper as she smiled at him. Tony looked at him again before he turned away, and then his eyes fell on Ransom who was stood with his grandfather. Ransom grinned at him, and Steve simply glared back, before he turned to greet Clint who had now appeared behind him.

“Hey Cap.” Clint smiled, and Steve returned his grin, shaking his hand.

“Hey Clint, didn’t know you were coming.”

“No one did, bar Nat. Thought it would be a nice surprise for Nova.”

“Sure she was thrilled." 

"Am I sensing a little trouble in paradise?” Clint asked, and Steve scoffed.

“You could say that.” He shrugged, before he sighed “I said something before, that was out of order and now she’s giving me the cold shoulder. Told me not to come actually but…”

“But here you are.” Natasha said, leaning on the bar besides him “You’re either dumb, got a death wish…or maybe both.”

“Romanoff, just don’t.” He turned to look at her, and she smirked before ordering herself a martini. “How long has Drysdale been here?”

“Who?” Clint frowned.

“The smarmy looking asshole in the pinstriped suit.” He said, nodding towards him.

“About an hour.” Nat shrugged.”I’m not sure.”

“An hour too long.” Steve muttered, taking a mouthful of his drink.

“Are you seriously that bothered by him?” She turned to look at him. Steve didn’t reply.

“Clearly.” Clint said, “Who is he?”

“Harlan Thrombey’s Grandson.” Natasha explained “Harlan wrote the book that the SIP published and donated all the profits to the Relief Fund.”

“And you don’t like him?”

“They had a little run in Boston…” Nat smirked. “And then at the Launch…”

“It wasn’t a run in.” Steve shook his head “He was absolutely vile to Katie…”

“And she’s over it…” Natasha sighed

Steve didn’t reply, he simply watched Drysdale for a second before he turned his attention to the stage where Tony was now tapping the microphone. The Marquee fell silent and Tony grinned out.

“And once again I find myself the centre of attention.” he grinned, and the room chuckled. “But tonight isn’t about me, for once, yes I know, I know…”

He continued to talk for a few minutes, thanking everyone for coming before he grew serious and took a deep breath.

“As you will all know, the past 6 months Stark Independent Publishers has been working, in partnership with a number of Women’s Charities which are close to all of us in and around Stark Industries, and the Avengers for personal reasons as you will be well aware. We are seconds away from announcing our final fundraising total, so without further ado I’d like to hand you over to my little sister, who’s been the brains behind this from the very start. Kiddo, the stage is all yours.”

As he stepped back the Marquee erupted into applause and Katie walked up the steps to the stage, her face beaming as Tony swept her into a hug. She grinned at him as he kissed her cheek and she headed to the microphone.

“Thanks Tone.” she smiled, “That was short and sweet and actually very to the point, for once.” a few chuckles rang around and Steve simply watched his wife as she started running through what they’d been doing and how they’d been raising money, her passion and enthusiasm shining out of every inch of her body. As he stood still, he felt all the anger eb out of his body and instead it was filled with an overwhelming sense of pride. Katie finished her speech before she stepped back and turned to take an envelope from Happy who bent and kissed her cheek.

“So although I know the sales figures from our book, the rest of this is a surprise to me, as much as it is to you.” she smiled, and then her eyes locked with Steve’s. She gave a little surprised frown, and then her face softened slightly as he smiled at her and she gave him the faintest of smiles back, before she averted her gaze and grinned as Tony let out a loud yell.

“Drumroll please….”

Katie laughed as the tent was filled with the sounds of people banging on things, and stomping their feet. Steve watched as she opened the envelope and pulled out the card. Her eyes widened as she read the total and her mouth dropped open.

“Shit.” she spluttered, and the Marquee chuckled whilst she composed herself. “Sorry but…my God this is…” she swallowed and looked at Tony for a moment before she shook her head “According to this, the donations, sales…we’ve raised over fourteen and a half million.”

“Holy shit!” Steve heard Natasha splutter as his own mouth dropped open, and he joined in the cheering.

“This is amazing, but this also isn’t the end of it. Stark Industries will be doubling this total and all profits from the sales of "The Colour of Revenge” will continue to be donated.” She sniffed slightly and Steve could see she was getting emotional. He set down his glass on the bar and started to make his way over to the stage. "This money will save lives, give women a safe place to go when they’ve no one else to turn to. Thank you, thank you all for your overwhelming generosity. Now, please enjoy the evening and the entertainment and if any of you want to give us any more money, please feel free.”

At that she stepped back and Steve waited for her at the bottom of the stage steps, the applause ringing in his ears. He offered her his arm and she paused for a second.

“Oh come on, sweetheart” He pleaded gently. She allowed him to help her down before she turned to him

“I told you not to come.”

“Honey, this was your big night. I didn’t want you to do this alone.”

“There’s a marquee of people.”

“You know what I mean.” He said gently “I’m sorry, you know I am. Please don’t let’s fight now, I hate it.”

“I don’t want to do this here” she said, her tone soft “Not now Steve.”

"Ok.” he said, leaning down to give her a soft kiss. She didn’t turn away, which he took as encouraging “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” she smiled softly, “Now, sorry, but I have to go give an interview but…”

“Sure, come find me when you’re done.”

She nodded, and headed away from him towards someone he didn’t recognise, presumably some journalist. His eyes still on her back as she walked away, he felt slightly buoyed by her seemingly thawing towards him, so with a slight spring in his step he headed back to the bar. He ordered another drink, and had just taken it when a familiar voice drawled at him, and he instantly felt himself bristle.

“She’s one hell of a woman your wife.”

“What do you want Drysdale?” he asked, turning to the man.

“Nothing, I was just paying her a compliment.”

“Well don’t” he glared at the man “And if you value your life, keep your eyes and your damned hands to yourself.”

Ransom let out a snort “What you gonna do, throw me over the bar again?”

"Don’t tempt me.”

“We both know you’re not gonna make a scene here, not with all these people around, because that really would piss your wife off.” he leaned on the bar, looking around. “And then she’d have to send me another coat and a crate of snacks.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve frowned.

“Oh dear, didn’t you know?” Ransom smirked “Yeah, after I sent her the cheque and her knife back, she responded with a very nice coat and a couple of months supply of cookies.”

Steve’s nostrils flared as he looked at Ransom, then over to his wife and back again. “Are you shitting me?”

Ransom shook his head. “And they tasted all the more sweeter coming from her, if you know what I mean.”

“You smug, son of a bitch…” Steve stepped forwards, and a hand settled on his arm.

“Cap.” Sam spoke “Don’t…”

“Yeah Cap...” Ransom drawled, sipping his drink.

Steve shrugged Sam’s hand off his arm and glared at Ransom, the look on the man’s face was infuriating him. “Make one more wise crack I swear to God…”

“I don’t believe it.”

Steve’s head snapped to the side and he saw Katie glaring at him.

“Katie…”

“You just can’t help it can you?” she shook her head. “And I thought you were genuinely sorry.”

“To be fair…” Sam began to defend Steve but she held her hand up.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” she said, shaking her head. “I’m done…”

With that she turned and strode away.

“Oops.” Ransom said simply, picking up his glass. With a final look at Steve, he headed off back towards his grandfather.

“Well played.” Sam said, sarcastically, clapping Steve on the shoulder. Steve took a deep breath before he drained his glass and turned, leaving the tent.

******

It was pushing one in the morning when Katie got back to their living quarters. Steve was sat outside on their patio, the bottle of Asgardian shit on the table in front of him but thanks to his super hearing he knew she’d entered the room. Standing up, grabbing the drink, he moved into the doorway, leaning on it as she shut the door, shoes in her hand. She turned around and stopped when she saw him, eyeing him for a moment, taking in his appearance. His tie was loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up and she could tell from the look in his eyes he was drunk.

“You came back then?” His words were slightly slurred.

“Where else would I go?” She snarked back.

“I dunno, maybe to order Drysdale another coat or some cookies.” He necked the drink that was in his hand before he set the glass down on the dining table that stood in front of him.

“Seriously, that’s…that’s what all that was about?” she shook her head “God you’re an asshat.”

“An asshat.” He mused, pouring himself another measure of drink.

“Yes, an asshat.” she said, swaying a little on the spot. Fuck she was drunk as well, she’d ended up doing shots at the bar with Clint and Evans, never a wise move.

“Well I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.”

“Oh fuck off Steve.” She sighed, “I’m going to bed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, and she stopped, turning round.

“What about?”

“Your present to Ransom?”

“Because I didn’t think it was important, it was just a joke.”

“Fucking hilarious.”

“No, you know what is hilarious? This.” She gestured to him, a little unsteadily “You getting all fucking het up about a damned coat and some cookies. Now who’s being ridiculous?”

“I saw you.” He said, “When I first got there, you had your hand on his arm, laughing at him…”

“Oh Jesus Christ Steve!” She groaned. “I was talking to him, he was telling me something about his uncle!”

“You were all over him”

“Do you want me to go and fuck him or something?” Katie asked, “Because if that’s gonna make you happy, just to prove a point.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.”

“Well shut up then!” She yelled back. “Sometimes I wonder what the hell goes on in your head. I love you, you know I do. I don’t want or need anyone else but at times you irritate the shit out of me.”

“The feeling is mutual, Doll.”

“Good, glad we agree on something.” She shook her head. “I’m going to bed. You carry on drinking yourself into a stupor. And you can sleep in the spare room.”

“Like fuck I am!”

“Fine, I’ll sleep in the spare room then.” she shrugged

“You’re such a fucking brat.”

“Me?” she laughed “I’m the brat? You’ve behaved like a prize prick Steven, and I’m so fucking pissed at you I can’t even…”

With that she turned and headed towards the bedroom.

“Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you.” He followed her.

“Or what?” She spun round, “What you gonna do…”

“Oh Doll, you have no idea how much you’re pushing me tonight.” He hissed, his voice low.

“Really Steve, how many fucking buttons am I pushing? Hmmm?” She leaned against the wall. “Do enlighten me.”

“You know it’s no wonder Ward cheated on you. If you were like this with him then…”

Whack!

Something sharp hit him in the temple and he dropped the glass he was holding, staggering back slightly. He glanced at the floor and saw that she had launched her shoe at him, her aim impeccable as ever. He raised his hand to his forehead, feeling the wet trickle of blood under his finger. It wasn’t a lot, she’d only nicked the skin but it was enough to sober him up slightly, and the words he had just spitefully spat at her echoed in his head.

“Katie…”

“You are the biggest fucking…” She spoke, her chest heaving, “Actually I don’t even have a word to describe what you are right now.”

“You hit me with a shoe.” He said simply.

“Yeah, want me to do it again?” She asked, waving the one that was still in her hand.

“Don’t.” He shook his head.“Look, I’m…”

“Oh save it.” she said, turning and walking into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Steve’s hands fell to his hips, as he looked down at his feet. What the fuck was wrong with him? That was twice today he’d said something so despicable it made his toes curl even thinking about it. He’d been a grade A asshole, and he needed to make this right.

“Katie…” he strode after her, and headed into the bedroom. The en-suite door was shut and he could hear her sobbing in the bathroom. Fuck. “Honey I’m sorry.”

“Piss off.” she sniffled.

“Open the door, please.”

“No…”

“Don’t make me break it down. You know how precious Tony gets about us breaking things”

His joke fell flat as she remained silent. "Sweetheart…”

“Where did you learn to be so spiteful?” She yelled back through the door.

“I don’t know.” with a sigh he leaned against the door “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of those things…”

“But you did.” she sobbed, and Steve felt the tears prick his eyes “Why?”

“I was angry, and…” he took a deep breath “I guess I wanted to piss you off as much as you pissed me off.”

“I pissed you off?” she snorted “Steve you came at me before with that comment about fucking HYDRA and now Ward…could you be any more nasty?”

“I know, I know…” he said, “Honey, I’ve no excuse. Please, open the door.”

There was a sniffle on the side and he heard her the swish of her dress as she moved. The lock on the door clicked and it opened a chink. He pushed it further and look at her, her mascara was streaked down her cheeks, her hair was messy from where she had clearly been fisting her hands in it and he instantly felt the pang of guilt and regret in his chest tighten even more. “Oh baby girl…” his voice cracked “I’m so sorry…I really am.”

“How could you even think for one minute that I’d even look at that jerk in that way?”

“I don’t not really” he said, shaking his head. “I’m an ass hole, a jealous ass hole…I just, sometimes I can’t believe…” he stopped, and shook his head “You know what, it doesn’t matter. I was out of order.”

She paused and looked at him, sniffing. “You can’t believe what?”

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter.”

“For fucks sake, Steve!” she spluttered “Stop it!”

“I can’t believe that you, well that you chose me you know?” he sighed, his hand running through his hair “I just…”

“You’re a dick.” she shook her head. “I married you, you ass hole.”

“I know, and I wonder why sometimes.”

“So you’ve been a spiteful bastard because you feel insecure?”

“No, well, partly…” he sighed “Look, seeing you before with him and then he he told me about the box and stuff…I just saw red.”

She looked at him and shook her head “That is not an excuse.”

“I know it isn’t.” he looked at her “I know.”

She looked at him for a moment before she shook her head and walked out of the bathroom, over to her vanity table, sitting down. She pulled out the wipes and began scrubbing at her face, removing her make-up. He sat on the edge of the bed, in the same position he had a few hours ago and simply watched her. Eventually, when she was happy her face was clean she looked up and he saw her eyes travel over his reflection before she frowned.

“You’re bleeding" 

"Well, you’re a damned good shot” he shrugged. “And those heels are sharp.”

She stood up and turned, stepping into the space between his legs.

“Honey it’s…”

“Shut up” she instructed.

Knowing he had pushed his luck already he did as he was told and she gently wipe at the cut on his temple, his hands falling to her hips as she did so. He was pleased to see she didn’t push him away. He watched her intently as she cleaned his face.

“I think you’ll live” she said gently, tossing the wipe into the waste basket. His hands flexed on her hips and she looked at him.

“I really am sorry.” he said again “I love you, so fucking much. At times I just don’t know how to deal with it.”

“By not being a cunt.”

“Wow.” he snorted “Did you just drop the c-bomb?”

“Justified.” she muttered, her hands falling to his shoulders “Damned it Steve!”

“I know, I know.” he said his hands, smoothing down the back of her thighs.

“I love you too, so much it hurts at times.” she shook her head “You know the amount of women that look at you in such a way I know what they’re thinking but…I get over it, you know? Because you married me and…” she let out a deep breath. “You go ballistic whenever I question how you feel about me compared to Peggy and yet you come out with the stuff you said today.”

Steve looked down at the floor, his hands still curved around her legs “I know. My ma would be ashamed.”

Katie took a deep breath before she moved her hand and tilted his face up to look at her. His eyes were shining with tears and she let out a sigh, dropping a kiss to his forehead as her hand slid round the back of his neck, nails dragging over his skin.

“I love you.” she muttered “You big, dumb idiot.”

They stayed silent for a moment and Steve looked up at her, smiling softly.

 "You know you really looked amazing tonight. I’m just sorry I didn’t get chance to appreciate it more.“

"Well…” she took a deep breath. “I know I didn’t let you help me into my dress…but you can help me out of it if you want?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, a smile flickering across his face “ Yeah?” he asked, gracefully rising to his feet.

She nodded, biting her lip. He leaned down to give her a soft kiss before he whispered against her mouth “Turn around.”

She did as she was told and Steve reached for the zip on her dress, sliding it down gently, his fingertips brushing her skin as he did so, allowing the dress to fall at her feet and he let out a soft moan as he glanced down, seeing that she was braless. His hands gently guided hers up so they reached back around his neck, and he swallowed at the sight of her presented to him. One hand moved down, splayed on her stomach, pulling her back into him as the other swept her hair out of the way as his head dipped, trailing kisses across the back of her shoulders, before he made his way up her neck, his teeth softly grazing her ear. She let out a soft sigh, her head tilting to one side as his lips continued caressing her soft skin, the hand that was on her belly started slowly to make its way downwards, sneaking beneath the waistband of her panties. His fingers gently parted her folds, and she gave a little gasp as he began to coax her softly, his other hand reaching up to caress her breasts, gently kneading before he pulled on her hardening nipple. She arched her back into him slightly, a breathy gasp escaping her as he continued to tease her, his mouth hot on her neck.

“Like that?” his own voice was raspy, his arousal evident in his tone and she gave a nod.

“Don’t stop…” she begged, and his fingers began to work faster against her nub, the hand on her breast also picking up the pace slightly.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered and she moaned and writhed in delight at his praise and his actions as he worked her over. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pushed two fingers into her and curled them against her spot and her head fell back even further into him as she let out a soft whimper of his name, his hands upping their pace slightly as she began to buck into his touch. She arched her back, her mouth fell open and then her head rolled forward as she came, knees trembling, her hands pulling at his hair. He held her up in his strong arms and whilst she was still in the after throws of bliss he nipped at her neck, drawing a soft groan from her mouth. Steve gently turned her round and lifted her up, placing her gently on the bed, kneeling over her as he discarded his shirt, tie by which point she had recovered slightly and sat up, her hands pulling at his belt buckle.  He leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep kiss, and he grinned against her mouth as she whipped the belt from around his waist, tossing it to the floor before she undid the button on his pants, pushing them down over his hips along with his boxers.  Once he had shimmied out of his remaining clothes, he fell over her again, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her hard, using his leg to part hers. With a sharp thrust that made her cry out, he sank into her, his lips back on hers, as he stilled for a moment, grinding up against her. Her head fell back against the pillow and he started to drive into her, his thrusts hard, deep and he moved his mouth down to kiss and lick and suck all along her shoulders, knowing full well he would leave marks there for the morning but neither of them cared as their moans grew louder as his thrusts grew more desperate.

“Fuck.” he groaned, both hands now on her hips as he continued his movements, looking down at her as her breasts bounced as her body moved with every slam he made into her. Her hands moved from where they had been gripping at his biceps to bracing herself against the headboard, causing her to push back against him, allowing him to push deeper. As her breathing adopted the tell tale staccato rhythm, he moved one hand  to the back of her head and he used it to make her look up, her eyes locking onto his as he felt her body start to quiver.

“Come on doll…” he practically growled “let go for me…”

It wasn’t like she had a choice. She never did when it came to this. Her pupils were blown now with lust and desire and after another 3, 4 hard thrusts her back arched and her hands flew to his back, nails scratching at his skin. He hissed at the bite of pain, dropping his mouth to capture hers as she moaned again, this moan broken as she bucked upwards and clutched at him desperately.

“Stevie…” she moaned and her walls tightened on him as she came hard, and the feel of her tightening and pulsing around him tipped him him ferociously over the edge after her, his hips stuttering as he gave into the wave of pleasure with an incoherent babble of her name, before he tipped forward, falling onto her, his face buried in her neck.

The pair of them lay still, the only sounds in the bedroom now were the deep, ragged drawings of breath. Katie gently ran her hands through his hair, as she always did, relishing his weight on top of her. This was the only way she could ever lift Steve, his body on top of hers rising and falling through the movements of her deep breathing.  Eventually he raised his head and pressed their foreheads together, his nose sliding up and down hers gently.

"I love you.” he whispered “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.” she sighed, looking at him “But Steve, you really did behave like a jerk.” “I know, and I’m sorry.” he said, his hands moving to brush her hair back. “I really am.” “I know you are.” she said, her hand gently running down the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes slightly, allowing her touch to relax him even further. “I don’t understand why you think I would even want anyone else.” “Well, I guess you can take me out of that little kid that got his ass kicked all over Brooklyn, but you can’t take that little kid out of me.” he sighed, his head hanging slightly as he shook it letting out a deep sigh.

She considered him for a moment before she leaned up and gave him a soft kiss “I love you, Steven Grant Rogers, not Captain America.” “I know Doll.” he nodded “I know.” With a gentle movement he pulled out of her and pushed the covers of the bed down, before he rolled onto his back, as she scooted over to him, her head laying on his chest, one of her legs pushing through his as she snuggled closer. He pulled the duvet over them and reached over to hit the switch which would cut the lights in the room.

“This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.” she said softly as his hand carded through her hair, his chest warm against her cheek as it gently rose and fell with his breathing.

“I wouldn’t dream of suggesting it does.” he chuckled slightly kissing her head “I’m not that stupid” “Jury’s out.” she yawned slightly, the arm that was draped around his waist gave him a squeeze and he pulled her closer nuzzling into her hair.

It wasn’t long before he felt her relax and he glanced down, just able to make out in the dim light that her eyes were shut. He watched her face for a moment, the face he could draw from memory, and had done as a matter of fact several times, an let out a deep breath. She was right, he was an ass hole, and at times he knew he didn’t deserve her. But she loved him and wanted him, and damned it he’d try and be worthy of that love and want every damed day for the rest of his life.

“I love you so much doll.” he whispered into her hair.

“Love you to Soldier…” she muttered back, her face pressing further into his chest. With a smile he dropped a kiss on her head, closing his eyes as he felt the tendrils of sleep pulling at him, happy that they were going to be ok, not that he doubted that for a second not, really They’d come through far worse after all, and like his Ma always used to tell him.

Tomorrow is another day after all.

***** Chapter 28

**Original Posting**

[mythicamagic]

#29 i have a fetish this week, i guess lol.

29: a kiss on the inside of the wrist.

Wind whipped her hair back to thrash in the breeze, and Kagome tightened her coat around her. One of Miroku and Sango's twins inched a little too close to the edge, and the miko quickly snatched her up before she could fall.

"Careful," she smiled, tapping the cute munchkin's nose.

Hachi was generously giving them a lift to the former Demon Slayer's Village where Kohaku awaited them. It was thankfully faster than travelling on foot. Kagome couldn't help but stare wistfully at the passing scenery, mind cast adrift.

"Don't worry, Lady Kagome!" Miroku called from up front, "we're making good time."

"Hm?"

"You looked a little bored," he chuckled.

Kagome blushed and noticed Sango staring. "N-no! I was just wondering if the village would be alright without us," she lied, feeling terrible that her priorities were so missed up that she wasn't worried about them.

"Inuyasha is there to protect everyone, try to relax. This is meant to be a break," Sango smiled.

Nodding, she returned it, playing with their twin's feet and causing her to giggle.

After a few moments of being left alone to her thoughts however, Kagome naturally fell back into her musings. She began recalling that night. That fateful rainy night Sesshoumaru had extended an offer to her that would change the nature of their relationship forever.

----

Rain poured hard, pelting her shoulders like icy needles. Kagome shuddered miserably, arms curled tight around herself as she hurried towards a tree. Ducking down against the bark gave her mild relief, feeling only small droplets reach her from the position. She sighed heavily, breath fanning out visible.

In retrospect, navigating by night from the Bone Eater's Well towards the village hadn't been a wise decision without a torch. ‘I'd been in too much of a hurry to leave.’

Mindling soaked dark strands back from her damp forehead, Kagome blinked and squinted into the darkness. Something was flying through the rain filled skies. Faint green flames could be seen like flickering stars. They drew closer, a black square shape becoming visible.

Kagome wasn't sure what to make of it. The structure resembled an ancient Japanese court carriage, the shutters thick black lacquer to ensure privacy, lanterns hanging from the roof. Flowers patterned its side, carved into the wood in intricate, sprawling patterns and shining gold.

Instead of being pulled by a man or horse though, it was a demon drawn carriage. Small kappa-like demons ensured the carriage glided through the air smoothly. Kagome shivered. She could taste youki the air it seeped so thick and strong. Familiar...

The carriage hovered, lowering itself to muddy, rainsoaked ground. From the back, wooden blinds were turned and snapped up sharply, letting a thick haze of pipe smoke escape like a dusty exhale from a dragon.

Sesshoumaru gazed at her from within the carriage, endowed with more grandeur and finery than she'd ever seen him wear before. Usually his outfit comprised of refined beauty mixed with practicality and strength. Without battle armour, he looked softer. Lilac silks were patterned with his house crest. Earrings glittered upon pointed ears. An ornate pipe was held between deft fingers, and he took a drag, observing her with watchful curiosity.

"Are you going to stand there all night, miko?"

Kagome gaped and glanced around, wondering if Kaede had appeared or Kikyo had risen from the dead a fourth time. Surely he wasn't talking to her?

But sure enough, that flat, unimpressed gaze was mistakable. Kagome swallowed and hurried out from the shelter of the trees. Climbing up into the back entrance of the carriage, she found the space limited and swathed in furs. Cosy, but alarmingly close to Sesshoumaru. Their knees were almost touching as she sat opposite him. The blinds were snapped down over the exit before she could protest, her body swaying forward from momentum as the carriage ascended once more. Kagome quickly righted herself before she could land atop his lap.

Sesshoumaru observed her with mild amusement, tilting a regal chin up. "Is there a reason I find you by yourself?"

Kagome bristled and hugged her arms "I don't need Inuyasha to mind me like a child. I can do things on my own," she grumbled.

"Mn, so I have observed. You have often been alone lately, miko."

Her teeth ground, shivering violently. She jumped upon feeling plumes of lavish fur wrap around her shoulders. It practically drowned her in warmth. "T-thanks."

Busying himself with another languid drag, looking decadent yet exuding opulence, Sesshoumaru hummed. He seemed to be waiting for her to continue, so Kagome sighed and reluctantly elaborated.

"We broke up a few months ago. Things are still a little strained between us, is all. Why do you care?"

"I do not, this one is merely making conversation."

She frowned, gesturing to him. "Your turn. How come I find you cruising around Japan in this era's equivalent of a Porsche?"

"What is a Porsche?"

"It's a car."

"What is a-"

"We're getting off the subject," Kagome giggled, catching herself. Had she ever giggled around him before?

Sesshoumaru didn't seem to mind, now pouring himself some saké, "I am returning from a gathering of influential demons."

"Ohhh now I get it," her eyes danced. "You're drunk because of a party, that's why you're so amiable tonight. Makes sense."

Golden eyes immediately turned flat. They were relaxed and not as sharp as per the norm but awareness kept his pupils focused. "This is not my true form. I have not nearly consumed enough to become inebriated."

Kagome glanced him over, frowning when he offered her a cup of the clear liquid- ultimately shrugging and accepting it. Taking a tentative sip, she choked and coughed, blinking rapidly. "That tastes vile," the words came out as a squeak.

He sniffed primly, giving a haughty look and eyeing the cup. "...You are entirely correct. This is not good saké. Perhaps Lord Onozuka was attempting to poison me."

She nodded seriously. "My Grandpa's stuff is better- though at 18, it's technically illegal for me to have tried it. Don't tell anyone," a grin was working its way onto her mouth.

"Would not dream of it," his lips curved, honeyed gaze smiling. "Perhaps you are not as pure and innocent as first assumed, miko."

She abruptly lost her playful mood, glancing away with thin lips. Silence engulfed them, filling up with large consuming bursts of miserable scent as her emotions rolled turbulently. "...Surely...you can tell I'm not 'pure' anymore," Kagome mumbled. "Are you making fun of me?"

Sesshoumaru stared at her levelly, nostrils flaring. Winter lashes lowered slightly. "I could scent that you were no longer a virgin, but that has little to do with the purity of your soul, miko."

She sighed heavily, taking a sip of the alcohol and wincing. "It was wrong of me- n-not the sex part. I don't believe sex before marriage 'taints' someone or anything like that. It's just...I did it with someone I shouldn't have. My boyfriend..."

He arched a brow. "Is that not the term of a human male in a relationship?"

"Y-yeah, I'm not making sense, I know. Asahi was a rebound, we only dated a short time. That's the problem. I totally used him- and I feel terrible for it."

Violent shame twined with regret, tears pricking her eyes. She gripped the porcelain cup so hard it trembled in her hold. "Inuyasha moved on so quickly from our relationship. I-I thought there was something wrong with me, so I forced myself to date someone else. I'm lonely, sure, but that's no excuse. I wish I'd never done it- I should've just stayed far away from any relationship until I knew for sure I wasn't going to use the guy-"

Sesshoumaru's fingers wrapped around her hand, cutting her off mid-tirade. Her breath stalled, quelled by his calm gaze.

He huffed softly, claws lightly skimming sensitive skin. "First of all, foolish woman; did this Asahi boy seem dissatisfied or upset about being 'used?'"

"N-no...but he didn't get the full story."

"You do not owe him an explanation," Sesshoumaru rumbled, something tinging his voice. "He could not tell you were miserable, and knows nothing of your life here- furthermore would not understand. I see no reason to punish yourself thus for experiencing a moment of pleasure after months of distress."

She'd never heard him be so chatty before. Nonetheless, Kagome remained unconvinced, staring at her shoes miserably and attempting to lift the alcohol towards her lips- Sesshoumaru's grip preventing her.

Ever so slowly, in a way that turned her stomach inside out and sent a rush of heat shooting straight down to her core- Sesshoumaru lifted her occupied hand, brushing soft lips over the inside of her wrist.

"In light of this new information," he said quietly. "I feel something should be done to drastically alter your mindset on indulgence."

"W-what-" Kagome squeaked, swallowing and closing her eyes. When they slid open, the miko raised her chin, intrigue blooming like a fresh flower bud in her forget-me-not eyes. "What did you have in mind?" she breathed.

"I have a proposition for you."