#feral about older men today

[dropoutfailure]

son who says "bruh" x dad who says "well now"

[surielstea]

Debts and Gifts

Fic requested by @weirdo-fun

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader (marriage of convenience au)

Summary: Azriel and Reader are out shopping for solstice when Reader stumbles upon someone from her past and Azriel’s sees to it that she forgets about him.

Warnings: PDA | Reader is a former courtesan | very, very slight nsfw, public (ish) | Azriel being feral for reader at all times.

3k words.

It was the last market day before Winter Solstice, which meant pop-up shops and vendor carts lined the main streets of Velaris, selling anything from hand-made jewelry to warm meals.

The streets were teeming with last-minute shoppers dressed in their warmest coats, everyone seeking warmth so much so that one of the cocoa vendors had a line around the corner.

I stood at one of the less crowded establishments, staring at the crystals beneath the protective glass, twisting my wedding ring around my fourth finger, a habit I picked up the moment it was placed on my finger.

"Come, this way," A familiar voice says and I turn from the crystals to face him, the dark-haired male holding out his scarred hand as an invitation. I pull my scarf up higher, hiding my flushed cheeks as I intertwine our cold hands. It was just so the crowd didn't split us up.

"I still have to get Rhys a solstice present," Azriel murmured, using the advantage of his height to look over the bustling crowd.

"The High Lord is the last on your list?" I giggle teasingly.

"Who says I got anything for you?" He lifted a dark brow at me and I frowned, squeezing his hand slightly.

"I think Mor and Cassian would beat you up if you didn't get anything for your wife," I state and he tenses slightly as if he's never heard me call him my husband before. I have, of course, many times to win arguments or just to tease him, so what was the difference now?

— flashback —

As a girl born in the Hewn City, I really didn't have much of a choice when it came to my line of work. It was a Courtesan or a housewife. And I wasn't exactly wealthy enough to afford the pretty dresses or delicate perfumes that would draw in the suitors in the first place. So courtesan it was.

Madame Welder was an older lady but I swore there wasn't a wrinkle on her. She was also the only person I've ever been afraid of, and I was her favorite disciple, lucky me.

It was my bidding day today, a day in every courtesan's life that would determine her fate of success. A day when men across courts would offer an obscene amount of money to take her virginity.

I dreaded this day. "At least you look pretty?" Mor smiled from beside my head, her hands planted on my shoulders as I stared at myself in the mirror, the dress I wore was more conservative than I had been expecting, don't get me wrong it wasn't modest by any means, but I've seen other girls dressed in sheer white chiffon for their own bidding days.

The gown was made of delicate white silk, and my décolletage was enunciated by curtaining fabric, covering just enough to prompt curiosity. The length was short, but not alarming enough for me to be embarrassed.

I did look pretty. I didn't exactly feel it.

"Yeah," I murmured. "At least I look pretty," I sigh, spinning on my heel, deciding the sight of myself was too foreign to handle. I walk towards my vanity and reapply my slightly faded lipstick.

A knock at the door made me flinch, I wasn't ready for this.

"Dearest, it's time," My Madame’s voice says through the door and my spine stiffens. I looked to Morrigan with creased brows.

"Everything will be fine," She smiles at me so casually the facade makes me believe her for a moment. "I'm taking care of everything alright?" She hums, coming closer to cup my cheeks. "Alright?" She repeats and I nod, my shoulders slightly relaxing and she smiles a bit brighter.

"Good."

The Shadow Singer had bet on me that night, in fact, he bet the largest sum that my Madame had ever made off a girl. She was more than happy to usher me off towards him.

"Az? What are you doing?" I whisper shout at him the moment we're in solitude. "Did Morrigan not tell you the plan?" His brows furrow, creasing in the center.

"The plan— what are you talking about?" I shake my head confused.

"We're getting you out of here," He says simply and I blink, then blink again, making sure I wasn't imagining this.

"I can't just leave, I'm indebted to my Madame," I explain and he rolls his eyes as if I should've already figured all this out.

"I just paid her more than she's made in her career, you don't owe her anything."

"But—" I begin.

"No buts, Morrigan and I devised a whole plan to get you out of this wretched city, you're not ruining it because of your good morality," He tuts, cutting me off and a frown pulls at my lips.

"No, Az it's not that," I sigh with a shake of my head. He cocks a brow, waiting for an explanation.

"Every girl under Madame Welder's wing is, more or less forced into entering a bargain with her," I pause, only to swallow thickly before continuing. "A girl cannot leave her organization until she has met the qualifications," I finish but his confusion still lingers.

"The qualifications being?" His head tilts and I rock slightly on my stiletto heels, my feet aching.

"There's only three, the first is that the girl has made Madame Welder a certain amount of money," I murmured and Azriel snorted. "I think I crossed that one off, the others?" He leaned back against the hallway wall, so very casual as he gracefully swept his hair away from his eyes.

"The second is that it must be after your bidding day, which we now needn’t worry about,” I murmur, upright about the third and final requirement. He noticed my stress but said nothing, waiting for me to finish.

“The third is marriage.” I finally manage to spit out and he blinks, his shoulders relaxing as he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thank the cauldron I thought it’d be far worse,” Azriel hummed and I looked at him like he was crazy. “We'll find you someone to marry,” He waved me off.

My brows creased. Someone would have to give up their chance at love so I could have a chance at freedom? It didn’t feel right. I’ve never been free, marriage meant surrendering my family name, which meant that I was one-half of someone else that I barely knew.

“Who would possibly give up their freedom if only to grant mine?” I narrowed my gaze and he shrugged. “We’ll get married,” He suggested and a pink flush warmed my cheeks. “We can figure this out, I’m not leaving you here,” He shakes his head, grabbing my hand in his. I squeezed it in reply, my blush still blazingly hot across my face.

He suddenly pulled me down a hall and I yelped as he took me towards the exit of the slightly crumbling tower. “Where are we going?” I asked with pursed lips.

“I bought you for the night didn’t I?” He cast a glance back towards me with a sly wink. If I wasn’t red, I most certainly was now. My spine stiffened but I continued to race after him. “Relax,” His thumb brushed over the back of my palm reassuringly. “We’re going to find you a ring.”

———

I was grateful for him that day, even more grateful that it was him Morrigan selected to bid for me. Not that I'd ever admit it aloud, but gods was I glad it was he was the one, out of all the others, who ended up putting a ring on my finger.

"Stay close," Azriel snapped me out of my thoughts but before I could register what he said, he pulled me into the crowd. I squeezed onto his hand tighter as I weaseled my way through people to keep up with him. He let go of my hand in favor of slipping it around my waist, holding me close to him as we traveled through the sea of people.

Lucky for us, most people of Velaris feared Illyrians so everyone made an effort to avoid us at the sight of Azriel's wings.

"What are you thinking of getting Rhys?" I ask as we weave and bob through the crowd.

"I have no idea. What do you get a lord who already has everything?" He sighs.

"A lint roller?" I suggest and he turns to look at me, slightly confused but I brush him off. "How about a new pair of shoes?" I try but his skeptical expression remains.

"He's not Morrigan," Azriel grumbles and I roll my eyes, continuing to shuffle alongside him. "What'd you get him?"

I shrug. "A new fancy jacket, say what you want. The male likes his clothes," I state and he only nods, his mind reeling.

We continue to walk in silence for a few minutes before he suddenly tightens his hold on me and pulls me in another direction.

"You really have to stop yanking me everywhere, I'm going to get whiplash one of these days," I huff as we enter a small, cozy bookstore. I look at him incredulously and he brushes me off.

“Since when does the High Lord read?” I scoff, walking down an aisle of colorful, and very enticing spines.

“We’re not here for Rhys,” He shook his head and I looked at him bewildered, my brows bunched. “Go on, pick out a book,” He waved me off and I blinked, still slightly confused. He sighed, giving me a soft smile.

“I got you a gift already, but I figured I wouldn’t exactly be fulfilling my role as the best husband ever if I didn’t spoil you,” He flashed me a pearly smile, showcasing a pair of dimples that I loved so dearly.

“How many can I get?” I ask him cheekily, as a joke surely, only expecting him to get me one but instead, he reaches to his side and picks up a wicker basket from its stack. “You can fill this up,” He handed me the basket and my eyes nearly popped from the sockets.

“Gods I could kiss you,” I muse, crashing into him in a hug. He didn’t stumble, but it took him a moment before he hugged me back. Registering what I said, I quickly pulled back. “Sorry,” I murmur, clutching the handle of the basket tighter.

He chuckled softly and shook his head. “That was the reaction I was looking for,” He smirked and I blinked, my breath caught in my throat.

He jerked his head towards the books behind me and I closed my mouth, realizing I must’ve been staring at him like a gaping fish. “Thank you,” I say, normally this time, and spin on my heel to examine the titles and covers of the many volumes.

I was in the midst of skimming through some adventure tale when a glimpse of someone caught my eye. I looked up, spotting a blonde male in the aisle beside mine. My breath hitched and I quickly slammed the book shut, putting it back on the shelf and walking as fast as I could without running towards the other direction. I foolishly bumped into a hard chest before I could turn the corner.

Fortunately, it was only Azriel. His shadows swirled around my ankles worriedly. “Everything alright?” His hands come to my shoulders and I swallow thickly. “Yeah,” I nod, glancing back to the male in the other direction who I wish I didn’t recognize. I looked back to my husband but his gaze had already followed mine, picking up on what I was running away from.

“You know him?” His expression hardened.

“No!” I blurted out, terribly loud and I clapped my hand over my mouth nervously. He gave me a pointed look and my shoulders slumped. “Fine, yes. He was a patron at Madame Welder's organization,” I say with a hushed tone. “He always kept an eye on me. If you weren’t the one that won on my bidding day, it would’ve been him,” I explain in a murmur and his face contorts, not into anger but rather… amusement?

“What’s so funny?” I scowl.

“We’re married.” He grabbed my left hand, holding it up to showcase the ridiculously large diamond on my fourth finger. “Remember?” He tilts his head but my frown remains. “As far as I can tell, there’s no ring on his finger. This means two things, one: you’re taken. And two: you’re doing a lot better than he is,” He said unambiguously. I swallowed down my nerves.

“Yes, but this,” I gestured between the two of us. “It isn’t real,” I argue, keeping my voice low.

“It can be,” He smirks, and my flush returns. “To him, at least,” He goes on.

“What do you want me to do? Kiss you in front of him?” I cross my arms.

“I mean unless you want to keep hiding behind me then go right ahead, but when he looks over at you and recognizes not the ring on your finger, but your shyness he’s going to think you’re the same girl you were ten years ago.” He explains.

“I’m not.”

“I know that, but don’t you want him to know too?” He raises a brow.

“You’re just trying to manipulate me, so desperate for some touch in your life,” I narrow my gaze on him.

He smiled, then shrugged. “Have it your way, I’ll be over here.” He began to stroll towards the male I was so terrified of being seen by.

I cast a glance at the blonde and noticed he was walking closer. “Wait he’s coming over here,” I grabbed Azriel by his shirt and he stumbled towards me finding purchase on the shelf beside my head, caging me against it.

“Oh, now you want my help?” He taunted and I rolled my eyes.

“Shut up and kiss me already,” I pulled at his shirt again and he wasted no time in following my command.

His lips were tender against mine and warmed me so thoroughly that I thought about stripping from my winter jacket. We’ve kissed before, for our wedding, and a few times after that in front of crowds to prove our love, but it didn’t feel like any of the previous kisses this time.

Because this time it was just us, the rest of the world melting away as my arms sling around his neck, one of my hands tangling into his black hair while my other one traces lines on the top of his taut wings.

He pushed me back onto the shelf, cradling my hips as he pressed against me, needing our kiss to be deeper.

It could’ve been a peck, could’ve been an innocent, chaste moment. But when his tongue swiped at my lower lip I understood that both of us wanted so much more than that.

I opened my mouth, granting his tongue access and gods did it feel good to be explored so fervently by him. He was hungry, like he’d been aching to taste me for years and he wasn’t prepared to give me up anytime soon.

He shifted, kicking my legs wider, and pressed his knee against the apex of my thighs. Every nerve in my body thrummed in reaction, my back arching off the shelf, my chest pushing against his. I needlessly gripped his hair, using all my energy to resist grinding against his leg.

“Az,” I murmur onto his lips, trying to convince myself to pull away but my willpower wasn’t strong enough, because to be honest, the last thing I wanted to do was end this.

“Hm?” He murmurs in reply.

“We’re in public,” I reminded and he nodded, very aware of our surroundings, aware of everything in fact. His shadows were slithering up my torso sporadically. He removed his knee from my core and a soft sigh escaped my lips. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” He whispered, then kissed me gently once more, just a soft peck this time. I was slightly shaky as he pulled away entirely. I nodded, licking my lips and savoring the lingering taste of him.

I turned back to the bookshelf, completely forgetting about the blonde male across the way until an unfamiliar voice spoke from beside me. “Pardon me, can I get by you?” I turned to the sound, finding the blonde male. I froze for a moment. It wasn’t him. I had no idea who this man was. I was so stupid to think someone so wretched from the Hewn City would be here, in the most protected city in the world. I catch myself, quickly peeling my leaden feet from the floor, scooting closer to the shelf so he could pass.

Azriel looks at me, slightly alarmed. “It wasn’t him,” I murmur, and this time my husband’s amusement actually forms into a laugh.

“You just wanted me to kiss you,” He teases and she crinkles her nose in spite.

“It was your idea,” I huffed, stomping away to a separate aisle, far away from him. But he caught me quickly, his arms slinging over my shoulders as he hugged me from behind while I examined a display table of Sellyn Drake's new novel.

After what felt like only another moment my basket was filled and Azriel had paid for each book, making me promise that I’d be surprised when I opened them on Solstice morning.

We stepped back out into the cold, my hand in Azriel’s while his other held my heavy bag of books. I smiled greedily, looking up at him. A gust of wind blew past us and it wiped away my smile, a shiver running down my back as my eyes stung from the cold.

“Come on, let’s go home,” He pulled at my hand and I looked up at him curiously.

“What about Rhys’ present?” I say and he shrugs.

“You’re cold, I’ll find something for Rhys another time,” He proposed and I nodded, squeezing his hand a little tighter and inching closer. I blamed my body for seeking warmth but we both knew that the kiss we shared meant more than we played off.

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[rodolfoparras]

think about price who constantly refers to his lover as 'the wife' with lovesick eyes to 141

now imagine 141 loosing their SHIT on the inside when they first meet 'the wife' and she isn't some petite pretty little housewife like they imagined but instead a large ass man built like a fucking TANK and easily towers over Simon who is the tallest of the group. price still refers to him as 'the wife' with the dorkiest grin ever and 141 doesnt let him live it down, threatening him with telling 'the wife' whenever he doesnt let them do something stupid

(feral anon)

(i want to be 'the wife' so bad but sadly i am a short transmasc that doesn't look like a man at all)

(your posts cure my gender disphoria)

A/N: I loved this idea and I’ve been wanting to write a fluff piece for my old man so here u go, something very light hearted ! Excuse any mistakes I wrote it within an hour or so!

It’s no secret that Price likes to keep his private life and work life separated, not many people know he’s married and he likes to keep it that way.

However he has no qualms about 141 finding out about the person he loves so much, matter of fact Laswell was the first to know, all unplanned of course.

It all happened when the two of them snuck away from the rowdy group of men to smoke. Sitting inside would’ve been a better option. It was warm inside, they had decent lighting and were within hand’s distant to their drinks but that would also mean they were at risk of losing their hearing or getting elbowed in the stomach or face by the drunken men, so outside it is.

Price offers her his cigar, which she takes gracefully muttering something along the lines of “my wife doesn’t like it when I smoke” while taking a drag from the tobacco leaf.

“Neither does mine” he says with crows feet appearing around his eyes and lips curling up into a smile.

“You’re married?” Laswell says, only with a hint of surprise on her face as she hands the cigar back to him.

“Happily” he says smile still present as ever on his face before he takes a drag from the cigar as well “been that way for four years now”

She just nods in response before she takes the cigar back, and that’s pretty much how Laswell finds out about Price’s spouse.

The next person to find out about it is Gaz.

141 had been out on a mission that day, and Gaz had taken the impulsive decision to head straight into the fire in hopes of getting important intel. He’s managed to get it but not without getting scolded for his reckless behavior by Price. Hours later and the guilt is still eating at him so he decides to make his way over to Price’s office in an attempt to make amends with the older man.

Gaz takes a deep breath before he knocks on Price’s office door.

“Come on in” he hears the older man’s voice.

Gaz walks in only to be met with the sight of Price seated in his office chair, paper work scattered about on his desk and a cigar resting between his index and middle finger.

“Sir” Gaz says, awkwardly shuffling in place. “I’d like to apologize for earlier today”

“Already forgotten”

The surprise must’ve been clear on his face because the older man can’t help but chuckle.

“Sit down” Price says pointing at the chair opposite to him before taking another drag from the tobacco leaf.

Gaz swiftly takes a seat, hands resting on his knees, nervously chewing on his bottom lip.

There’s a moment of silence as Price rearranges the paper in a neat pile on his desk, pen carefully placed next to it before he speaks again.

“You got someone special waiting for you back home?”

Once again Gaz is surprised but this time the older man just looks at him and smiles.

“I do, sir”

“So do I” Price says smile getting bigger as he folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair. “Oh don’t look at me like that I’m not that old am I?”

“No - no sir” Gaz says, hands awkwardly flailing about and feeling his ears burn as he blurts out the words.

Price’s smile grows even bigger before he begins to explain “point is I’m sure that special someone wants you back home alive, if anything were to happen to me I’m sure the wife would find a way to haunt me in the after life”

Price’s gaze falls to his hands, fingers fidgeting with his wedding band.

Oh.

The wife.

The ring.

The captain is married.

“Sometimes we have to do things we rather not do to make sure we come back home to them, keep that in mind Garrick”

“Yes sir” Gaz says, mind still processing this new found information.

“Good, now if you excuse me I have someone to call,”

Gaz without thinking says “the wife?”

Price only chuckles but nods his head in confirmation “the wife”

Soap is the third person to find out and it happens while 141 are relaxing on base, playing cards and drinking beer.

Price walks in with black slacks and a white button, rolled all the way up to his elbows. On top of that there’s an invisible trail of cologne that seems to follow his form.

“Captain! Come join us” soap says not even looking up at the man but instead keeping laser focus on the cards in his hand.

“No can do boys I’m heading out with the wife”

Soap almost drops the cards in his hand, head turning so fast Price is surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. “You’re married?”

“I am” Price says trying to suppress his chuckle when he sees Gaz peaking at Soap’s cards. “You weren’t planning on proposing were you soldier?” Price jokes which sends the rest of the group into a fit of laughter.

Soap physically recoils at that, head turning back to his cards and muttering a “to you captain? No thanks”

“Alright then, I’m heading out” Price says, choosing to ignore soaps comments, as he pulls on his jacket“don’t wait up!”

As Price makes his way over to the front door, he hears the group continuing to tease soap, can even hear the Scotsman accuse Gaz of looking at his cards, but he quickly forgets about everything as he sees you parked outside and waiting for him.

Ghost was very well aware of Price’s spouse, had even been the first person to know that Price was planning to propose.

The two of them had been in an entirely different squad, and less familiar with each other when they got sent out on a mission. A lot of things went wrong that day so much so Ghost and Price weren’t sure if the both of them would get back home alive. So Price had taken the opportunity to tell him about this special someone, how he was planning to propose to this person when they were scheduled to go back home, had even forced a wedding band in the palm of Ghost’s hand and told him to give it to the person if Price doesn’t make it out alive.

Luckily the both of them had managed to get out alive and Ghost had gotten the opportunity to watch Price put the ring on this person’s hand.

With that being said Ghost should be able to recognize this person if they were to appear in front of him but it’s been years so when he hears someone asking where Price is he doesn’t think twice about telling them, chalking it up to some poor lost recruit looking for the captain, while keeping his eyes on the weapon he’s cleaning.

However he doesn’t get to do much more before he hears another voice.

“Who’s the guy?” says soap, confusion clear in his tone.

Ghost turns to the other man and the annoyance must’ve been clear in his eyes because Soap raises his hands in an apologetic manner. “Oh sorry did i interrupt something important “ he says with a smile on his face.

“Anyway a tall really tall dude maybe taller than the ghost?” He pauses as if contemplating before he continues to explain “was looking for Price, really buff too…” he trails off while glancing down at his arms “hey you think I should work out more?”

Ghost just sighs before he returns to cleaning his weapon but he’s once again interrupted when Gaz walks in.

“Captain wants to see us in his office”

And that’s when he fully gives up on the task as he follows the two other men over to Price’s office, grumbling over why the captain was calling them over while putting up with the chatter from the Scotsman telling Gaz all about the giant that just passed him.

It doesn’t take much before they find themselves in front of Price’s office.

Through the door they can hear Price’s voice along with a much deeper voice, holding a conversation.

Soap is the first to knock on the door, while sharing confused glances with the two other men.

“Come in”

The three men enter the room only to be met with the sight of Price standing behind his office chair where a man is sitting in it, both of them sporting equally bright smiles on their faces.

“Boys” Price says, face ever so proud as he looks down at the man “meet the wife”

The man stands up, tall just like Soap had described him and when he reaches a hand out they see a wedding band that matches the one on Price’s hand.

“I’m the wife” you say with a big smile on your face.

[cherryc1nnam0n]

I'm bored and I don't wanna write something so have this rant about the (fictional) men I love and why

Hello people

This is Cherry speaking and today I am presenting top men that I love and why are (most of them) them all serial killers who wear masks and are dead? We'll find out here

1. Brahms Heelshire

I mean just look at him, skrunkily wall boi who has never showered, the man with a mask that makes him look so fuckable and submissive and he fucking whines?! Ngh, so hot

I need to lick those man titties with all my might and ride him until his legs give out

But unlucky for me he's dead as fuck so yikes, he's not dead in my mind or in my blog

2. Billy Loomis

Crazy Ghostface boi who can rearrange my guts any time he wants and breed me all he wants mhm mhm

I fucking love Billy because look at him, he's a psychopath but he looks so hot while being it

Who wouldn't love this man??

But again, another one dead, killed by Sydney (fuck you Sydney), but not before leaving his offspring but we won't talk about that now

3. Eddie Munson

The exception to being a killer because he was framed it's my beautiful boi Eddie <3

I love this boi with all my heart and he can touch it with his dick all he wants <3

I fell in love with him when I saw him on Stranger Things 4 and I haven't since then <3

But my boi was eaten alive by a swarm of feral bats and bleed to death in Dustin's arms but he's still alive in my mind, and Tumblr's mind <3

4. Mark Hoffman

My crush from Saw since I watched the movies when I was 6

I have always loved older men for some reason so yeah (daddy issues)

He's not a good apprentice from John because he kills people and doesn't give them the chance of survival but I still love him <3

But as all of them, he was tied up on the original room from Saw and left to die there

It's presumed he's dead because people only survive 3 days without food so he's probably dead as fuck like all of them bois in this list

Still, he's still alive for me so he can breed me all he wants <3

5. Ethan Landry

Another Ghostface crazy boi who died a virgin (not in my mind if you know what I mean)

He was killed in an awful way but he's still hot and submissive and breedable and oh my gosh he's so hot

I am literally obsessed with him and you'll see my latest likes are all Ethan so yeah, fuck me (Ethan) I guess

6. Billy Hargrove

My asshole of a boyfriend who was too weak in spirit to fight off Vecna and died thanks to it

I love him <3

He's my favorite boi that can hit me and fuck me all he wants until I fry and he won't even stop by then so mmmmmhmmm

But again, ded as fuck lol

7. Hannibal Lecter

Cannibal daddy can eat me alive whenever he wants, I have excess skin so he can have all he wants mmmm

He's so pretty and sophisticated and so mmmm

I love him and he can eat me all he wants and breed me too

(I don't remember what happened to him if he died of not but yeah)

8. C!Technoblade

My pig boi who is a genocidal and an anarchist will always live rent free on my mind

(Along with his creator Alex, RIP Techno, we miss you a lot)

But on the DSMP I headcanon he had a lovely wife and two kids who loved him a lot and now they're alone and sad </3

But he's alive in my own AU so it's fine

I love my pig boi

9. Jim Hopper

I mean look at him, he screams DADDY in all his forms

I love hunks for some reason and he's one of them

He can have me whenever he wants

Only exception to being dead lol

Man titties

But anyways. That's everyone I can name off the top of my head so if you until here have a nice day and I love you <3

[fordtramarina]

YES! Stanley and Stanford are growing older together, so Ford’s constant need to fight like a feral animal lessens with time. He’s in a more relaxed state than he’s ever been before resting besides his twin. Stan’s had 30 years to cook to perfection; Ford devours everything he makes. Taking a look in the mirror at the plush fat coating Ford muscles only furthers Stan’s peculiar attraction to more… burly men. Finding every excuse to touch Ford’s stomach, wrestling him just to feel his thighs clasp and squeeze. Ford’s noticed the weight gain and tells himself he’s needs a strict diet — after he tries out the plethora of pies Stan’s made today.

TRUUUUU TRUUU U get it so badly I've been meaning to draw something related to Stan just being utterly infatuated with Ford's weight . Veeery important to me. Need those two fat old men stupidly in love urgently.... I love making them miserable but also. Need them to just be so inlove with eachother sometimes.?? Luv the idea of Stan cooking for Ford sooo much. Considering also ? Ford definitely didn't eat well or even much in the last 30 years especially due to his paranoia so like. He really needs it, seeing Ford actually healthy because of what he's providing for him probably makes Stan feel so good about himself

[centralperkchenford]

prompt + Tim overhears other male officers making comments about lucy and goes feral

prompt + Tim overhears other male officers making comments about lucy and goes feral

I hope you like this one!

Fighting against all odds I know we'll be alright this time

Tim slumps into the locker room after a long shift and sits down on the bench and running his hand through his hair. He wants nothing more than to go home and curl up with Lucy who is probably already in bed.

He hates metro hours sometimes and he hates that he has to crawl into bed and then crawl out of it a few hours later. The only good thing about that is, he’s never alone when he goes to bed or wakes up. Lucy is usually always there.

He slowly gets up and starts changing out, when he hears low voices coming around the corner from where he is.

“She is a hot piece of ass.” One voice says and Tim pauses and frowns as he tosses his shirt into the locker and grabs the shirt he wore into work today.

“Agreed.” Says another voice. Tim doesn’t recognize the voices but they are probably new patrol officers.

“Is she dating anyone or is she single?” The first voice asks. The second voice sighs loudly and Tim pauses again. He wonders who the hell they are talking about, because they shouldn’t be talking about any woman that way.

“I think that Bradford guy. He’s a metro sergeant.” The second voice says. Tim freezes and then pulls his shirt all the way on and inches closer to the two men talking.

Oh. He knows exactly who they are talking about.

“That asshole? She could do so much better than him. Plus isn’t he like a lot older?” The first voice says. “I could show her what it’s really like to—”

“Like to what?” Tim rounds the corner and the two men turn on their heels to face him. Their eyes are wide. The first man’s mouth is hanging open, and the other man is looking anywhere but at Tim.

“Oh sir.” Says the second one nervously. “Um…”

“Do you just stand around in the locker room and degrade female officers?” He snaps. “Is that the cool thing to do now?”

“Look man.” Says the first man. Tim squints at his name tag. Tucker. “We were just saying what a good cop she is.”

Tim steps closer to them. Tucker doesn’t move but his friend shuffles to the side nervously. “You called Officer Chen a hot piece of ass.” Tim growls. “You said nothing about her being a good cop. Which she is and she would kick both of your sorry butts.”

Tucker rolls his eyes at Tim. “Everyone knows she slept with you to get to the top.” He says cooly. “Of course you will say she’s a good cop, you get to tap that every night.”

Tim steps forward and lifts Tucker up slamming him up against the lockers. His friend makes a noise of protest but doesn’t do anything.

Tucker squirms under Tim’s hold, “This is assault.” Tucker chokes out and Tim releases him but doesn’t let him get far.

“Stop being a asshole and stop degrading women.” Tim growls. He turns to the other man who is staring at them with wide eyes. “I would pick better friends if I were you.”

He storms off grabbing his bag from the bench. “See he’s an asshole! Chen will dump him soon. He’s not worth it.” Tim hears Tucker say. Tim has half a mind to go back and show Tucker what he deserves a swift punch to the face would do it but he decides he doesn’t want to be suspended or fired. He stomps through the station ignoring the looks of the other officers and hops in his truck, slamming the door angrily behind him.

He knows he shouldn’t have lost his temper but these two were idiots. They had no idea how long it took for him and Lucy to get to where they were now. And it was worth it. Lucy was worth it.

To hear these two idiots say the things they said: he’s an asshole, too old for her, she slept to the top to get to where she is.

It made him angry, it made him feel like his skin was on fire. He hit the steering wheel once causing the horn to go off.

He sighs as he backs out of the parking lot, the men’s words rolling around in his mind. Asshole. Too old. She will dump him soon. She deserves better.

He pulls in front of Lucy’s apartment building and parks but doesn’t get out.

What if she realizes he’s not worth it? What if she does break up with him? What if he is too old for her?

They never actually discussed their age gap but…

He sighs and grabs his bag out of the car and makes his way upstairs, he’s quiet going in. He knows Tamara is probably asleep and so is Lucy. He slips into Lucy’s room and drops his bag down and then slips off his pants and grabs his pajama pants that are hanging over a chair. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside and then slides into bed.

He doesn’t go to sleep though, he just lays there thinking about what happened in the locker room. He wants to sleep but those idiots words keep echoing in his head.

“You are thinking too loud.” Lucy mumbles. She rolls over and cuddles up next to him placing her hand on his heart. “What’s wrong?”

Tim is silent and Lucy is patient as she draw patterns on his bare chest. “Do you think I’m too old for you?” He asks. Lucy sits up and looks at him confusion written all over her face.

“No.” She says. “I don’t think you are too old for me.” Tim blinks at her once and then twice.

“Do you think I’m an asshole?” He asks. Lucy furrows her brows at him and then turns completely so she’s looking at him.

“No. You are not an asshole Tim. Where is this all coming from?” She asks.

Tim blows out a breath and looks away from her. “There were some guys talking about you in the locker room. It was degrading more than anything. And that’s not going to fly so I confronted them and this one—he said I was too old, I was an asshole and you would break up with me.” He says and he feels so stupid saying it out loud.

“And you are worried about all this?” Lucy asks. He doesn’t answer and Lucy smiles and moves so she’s practically on top of him. “First of all you are not too old for me. Age is just a number Tim and I have never even thought about that. Second of all, you are not an asshole.. maybe you were but I know that wasn’t really you. You are a big—”

“Do not say I’m a softy.” He grumbles.

“You are a big softy for me.” Lucy finishes grinning at him. Tim’s lips twitch into a smile. He wants to deny it but he can’t. Lucy just does something to him, and he can’t help but turn a little soft when he’s around her.

He scoffs but Lucy continues. “Third of all, I am not going to break up with you. I can’t think of a world where I would willingly break up with you.” She says and she reaches out to run her fingers across his face. “And you deserve everything good Tim.”

“That’s you.” He mumbles. She smiles at him and gives him a small kiss.

“Those officers don’t know us Tim. We are strong, we know what our relationship is. We are worth the risk remember?”

Tim nods and pulls her down to kiss her. “Yeah.” He says quietly. “They also said you slept to the top.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Everyone who knows us, knows that’s not true Tim. Like I said Tim they don’t know us. And our relationship really is no one’s business. Except ours.” He smiles because he knows she’s right.

“You are right.” He says. She grins and pokes at his chest.

“I usually am.” She says teasingly.

“This is the first time.” He shoots back.

“Shut up.”

He rolls his eyes and she rolls off of him and slots her leg in between his and wraps her arms around him and then lays her head on his chest.

“So what did you say to these officers?” She asks.

“I told them you could kick their butts.” He replies and she laugh and nuzzles her nose into his neck.

“Were you just saying that or could I actually take them?”

“Oh you definitely could take them.” He says.

She huffs out a laugh. “Goodnight Tim.” She says and he listens as her breathing evens out.

“Goodnight Lucy.” He replies. And he falls asleep too, feeling luckier than ever to have someone like Lucy by his side.

[visceravalentines]

Hello yes just wanted you to know that my brain is fried thinking about Bo calling me Mama.

Maybe it's where I live but some older southern men I've heard call their wives "Mama" and it makes me melt. Then imagining Bo saying it is making me absolutely FERAL.

oh no you've activated my insufferable mode

what an absolutely incredible time to plug one of my all-time favorite fics by the vile and horrendous @ventiswampwater: squall!! baby boy is plagued with mommy issues!! coming apart at the seams!

all my bones turn into dust when i think about him saying it no matter the context. he's fucked out and desperate and he turns those baby blues up at you and mumbles "please, mama?" you done pissed him off and he's about to make your life hell and he growls "hope it was worth it, mama." he kisses your cheek in the kitchen and says "you're lookin' real pretty today, mama."

and it's bc he loves his mother and he hates his mother and he needs to be babied and he needs to put a baby in you and you are every woman ever and you are the bane of his existence and he wants to fuck you to death and he wants you to kiss him goodnight before you put him out of his misery

and the moral of the story is i'm normal and fine and so is he

[whatiswhump]

Christmas 1957, Alfred Finch

A continuation of this series

Hi I’m back :) and this one’s LONG and I’m proud of it. Yay happy holidays

***

“Merry Christmas, Alfie,”

His head had just been shaved again, lice were making their way through the wards. It made his cheeks look so hollow despite the paper crown that had been clumsily placed on his head by a nurse.

Words didn’t come right away to Fie so he nodded back to Sean. He was aware today though, Sean could tell.

Turkey and mashed potatoes were unceremoniously still strewn across his tin tray. So much for a holiday meal. Sean wished he would eat it though.

“Th- that’s why I’m wearing this?” A wry smile snuck in as Fie nodded to his flimsy holiday accessory.

Sean felt an instant warmth that made his heart swell and he laughed a bit too loudly, “Yes it's what they call it holiday cheer, although I think Eddie took the square of chocolate you got with it.”

The wry twist of Fie’s mouth remained a bit longer signifying what would be a strong response these days.

Sean had read the charts this morning, Harris’s crony, Capshaw, hadn’t given up on the hydrotherapy yet. He had been scheduled in for it nearly every day this week.

He was surprised Fie was okay enough to even be in the cafeteria considering his typical response to the treatment.

“Hey how about you eat a few more bites of the Christmas feast for me, eh?”

Fie’s eyes trailed down at the sloppily served bits of meat in tepid gravy and potato. But despite his hesitation, he didn’t disobey, he lifted his fork and got to work. It twisted something in Sean to see how easily he followed requests... when everyone else in the institution ignored this and acted like he was feral, immediately going for force before bothering to request.

“Also Sophie says hello by the way,”

His patient paused mid attempt to skewer some meat with a confused expression.

“My wife, I think I’ve mentioned her, she and I got married a few months ago, yeah?” That had been during the no contact stage.

This did seem to jog his memory, he nodded but still seemed surprised. Sean spoke about him outside of work?

As if he read his mind, Sean continued, “Yeah, I tell her about you, especially your paintings. She’s an art history professor you know… Anyway, she asked me to wish you a merry Christmas.”

Alfie paused completely, clearly half here-half somewhere else, lost in thought, “...What year is it?”

“It’s 1957 'bout to be 1958, buddy.” Sean didn’t like thinking what that entailed for his friend, nearly four years in here now. Where had the time gone?

He was four years older than Delano now.

“Merry Christmas, Alfred.” 

Both young men jumped slightly at the arrival of Dr. Harris, how long had he been close by?

Alfie just stared back at him frozen, some of that old fear was returning as well.

Harris smiled, “I am glad the nurses are spreading some cheer,” and gestured to Alfie’s ridiculous hat, “And I am glad to hear that you’ve been trying harder to tolerate the hydrotherapy Alfred. That is brave of you as we all know how much it has frightened you in the past.”

Fie looked down at his plate ashamed. He remembered that. Over and over. A room full of people- him bare and being forced into water by so many hands. Harris watching…

“Dr. Harris, I hope that you’ve had a pleasant holiday?” Sean politely responded after a few beats of silence and an awkward cough.

“Thank you, Sean, yes. In fact I will be off soon, the wife and children are expecting me for Christmas dinner. Just like to stop in today every year. The holiday can set many of our patients off, I like to be assured that everything is under control.”

Sean agreed with that, many patients preemptively were given extra sedation today. It made him a bit sad but then he remembered the alternative- them suffering unnecessarily- missing family, memories, some even waiting for a visit from Santa Claus that would never come… It was cruel to them. Such a happy happy day turned cruel.

Dr. Harris gave Sean what was probably meant to be a polite smile, “Sean, would you give Alfie and I a minute? I’ll call you back over if you’re needed.”

An alarm bell went off in his head but he could only say, “Sure, Doctor,” And then glance to Alfie, who was still looking at his plate and walk to the perimeter of the room to join a few of the other orderlies.

“Alfred, please be polite and put your fork down and look at me.”

Fie dropped his fork almost robotically and wrapped his hand in the other in his lap.

“What else did I ask?”

He dragged his eyes up to the doctor standing up above him. He was wearing a red and green tie.

“You have children?” It came out before he even realized it, surprising both of them.

Harris smiled in amusement, “Yes, I generally keep my personal life separate, part of the profession I am afraid. Two boys and a girl. The eldest is sixteen.”

Harris could see the cogs turning in his patient’s head, new information about a man he knew surprisingly nothing about. He prided himself in being strictly a doctor to his patients, nothing else, no extraneous details. It was all about the patients after all.

He loved how painfully clear some of Alfie’s thoughts could be. And this was such a nice little Christmas gift dropped into his lap, especially since his initial plan was just to discuss water therapy again.

“I can tell you are surprised, what are you thinking about right now?”

“And stop picking at your hands.” He added with a touch of sterness.

Alfie’s worrying hands stilled instantly. His eyes looked bigger when they clumsily shaved his head like this. It was a shame they didn’t do a better job, he could have been a handsome young man. Even still.

“It’s just that you’re always here- I didn’t think- I didn’t know-” That he had children of his own? That he was someone's father…

It was natural that Alfred would see him as a father figure, it happened with a lot of patients, it was difficult to avoid. 

“I know you see me as a father, Alfred. I’ve helped you and taken care of you, it’s natural.”

Then Fie looked surprised again.

“This is why you still need so much more therapy, you’re a clever boy but you’re not making the most simple connections related to your psyche.”

Fie wilted a bit and after a brief moment nodded back to Harris. Sean had told him to agree when he could, he said it would help.

“Now Dr. Capshaw will restart hydrotherapy again today- only one day off. If you cooperate in our next session when I return tomorrow maybe we can consider reducing those sessions.”

Alfie looked back to him and nodded in understanding. He really would like that. He was getting better at hydrotherapy but afterwards he still cried every time. And really anything to see less of Capshaw.

“That’s a good boy. Now behave the rest of today, the nurses have enough to deal with, and you don't want to be sedated- or worse get a lump of coal, on Christmas do you?” He said with a smile and bent over and ruffled his hat partially crumpling it where it sat on his head.

“Merry Christmas Alfred, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Harris beamed in his good cheer and turned on his heels to leave the hospital for what Alfie imagined was a roasted goose with all of the trimmings and three smiling children. 

Maybe he was a good father? Maybe he played catch in the backyard and read stories alloud by the fire?

A shiver went through him as he was lost in this thought, only to jump again when he felt a hand on his back.

“Just me, bud,” Sean’s voice rumbled kindly.

Alfie deflated a little in his seat, “He said I have to have treatment today.”

Sean’s eyebrows were creased as he came into his vision, rounding the table, “On Christmas? What do they say? No rest for the wicked?”

“Is that me or them that's the Wicked?” Alfie replied dryly but lacking the smirk a joke would require.

Sean elected to ignore the dour comment and move forward, “I was watching you though, you did a good job, I saw you nodding- agreeing- just like we talked about. I know it isn’t easy.”

“You said that before- at one point… I used to fight it?”

It was Sean’s turn to smirk, “Like a tomcat, a force of nature,” He replied with a tone of distinctive pride, “You really stuck it to them.”

“Sometimes I feel like I still want to…”

Sean paused, sensing the dangerous territory, “Fie, listen, that’s not a bad thing but-”

“But then they’d erase me again… I know. So I won’t.”

He sighed, “It’s just not fair, Fie. You should be able to fight and I should help you-”

“But it isn’t fair no matter what and if you’re gone...”

Fie was frankly amazingly lucid today. It was reminding Sean of how painful it could be when he was.... as opposed to the other special kind of torture of when he was out of it- this way he was aware of the injustice, the cruelty.

“You’re right,” Sean breathed out, feeling decidedly un-cheery.

As if reading his mind in turn Alfie responded with a wry smile that didn’t match his eyes, “Merry Christmas to us then.”

Sean then smiled bigger than he should have, “I do have one thing that might tip the balances of today…”

Alfie actually looked mildly curious.

“If you’ll do me the honor of escorting me back to your quarters, there may or may not be a surprise waiting there…”

Fie tried to suppress a small smile and nodded. He almost got up but then looked apprehensively at his tray, reflexively ready to be told to eat more.

“Clean plate club as far as I’m concerned.” Sean shooed him up gently with a smile. 

Fie wobbled a bit and wasn’t fast by any stretch of the imagination but when they made it back to his cell Sean gestured inside like a prize show girl.

Fie raised his eyebrows when with a cursory look nothing was visible. 

“You think I’d let the nurses take it home for themselves? Look a little closer-”

Alfie stepped inside as he had hundreds of times before. The only thing in the white cell was an iron bed with white sheets and a gray scratchy wool blanket. 

He looked back at Sean, now really confused.

“Check the sheets” Sean smiled.

So Alfie did, tucked right within was a small bundle…

Alfie immediately sat on his bed with the green wrapped bundle on his lap and then just stopped, staring at it.

“You can open it anytime,” Sean reminded him in a teasing voice.

Fie looked up at him, almost surprised again that he was there, already so distracted by this new object.

But he nodded minutely and looked back down to the parcel.

It was wrapped with a thin red and white twine bow that he gingerly pulled loose. Before it fell away he rubbed it with his fingers, savoring the touch.

Gingerly, so gingerly he began on the paper. There was no tape so at his little tug it easily came away. First visible was a card.

“Merry Christmas! From the Cyril’s” read in cheery red script around a green snow covered tree with little yellow lights dotting it. Fie’s finger brushed slowly over the pressed inks. After a long moment, he opened up the card and something fluttered out.

Sean jumped over to retrieve it and embarrassedly spluttered as he handed it back, “Sophie wanted to give you a card but each one has our snapshot in it for family and friends out of town- it’s corny, i know...” his cheeks were red.

Fie just silently took the thick glossy cutout back and stared at it. It was Sean, that he recognized, but bizarrely out of uniform, in a knit button-up leisure shirt. And a woman beaming at the camera in his arms below him. She was so happy- beaming wasn’t enough of a word to describe it. Her hair was done stylishly in medium curls that swept off her face and her dress, even in the black and white, was obviously colorful and jubilant.

They were beautiful.

He looked at the writing in the card, “Dear Alfred, Merry Christmas from us. Good tidings and continued wishes for your improving health. With cheers and fond wishes, Soph and Sean.”

The script was decidedly ugly which unexpectedly made Fie laugh, scrawled with sharp points and careless dots and crossed t’s, somehow even that was amusing and warm.

“Oh her writing? I know!! Apparently the nuns used to use a ruler on her hands in grade school for it- she thinks she’s talented for it!” Sean laughed warmly.

Fie closed the card and smiled at Sean, “Thank you, Sean.” He couldn’t believe they would give him this, it was almost too kind.

“Well thats just the card! Look at the rest!” Sean replied giddily.

And sure enough, to his surprise, (as he had forgotten about the lumpiness of the parcel) there was more. First was a little pie, the size of a hand and absolutely delicious looking, then… a tiny notebook, again no larger than a hand with a little pencil fit into the spine. 

Fie picked up the notebook, dumbfounded. Green leather bound with tissue thin pages turned over and over in his hands.

“Mostly for drawing…. If you ever felt like it when i can’t take you to the art room but also I don’t know...” Sean rubbed the back of his neck, “For remembering things you don’t wanna forget- important things-”

Fie shifted the contents of his lap beside him to jump up and hug Sean but clumsily more fell into him than anything.

“Thank you-” He mumbled into the warm winter uniform sweater, “Thank you.”

Sean held him securely, “Merry Christmas bud, you probably deserve a helluva lot more than this.”

---

@cursedscribbles @voidwhump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @aliceinwhumperland @whump-it @professional-idiocy @ziptiewhump @angrystudentgoopfire @jaxonjekkels @clubbem @simplygrimly @whole-and-apart-and-between @bumpthumpwhump @rosesareviolentlyread @whumpasaurus101 @hurting-fictional-people @burtlederp @thelittlegirlwithcurlyhair @crystalquartzwhump @rotfern @sentientpileofmoss

[writer-darling]

Are You Ever Dreaming of Me?

Chapter 1: Bad Blood

I NEVER USE Y/N OR ANYTHING LIKE IT THANK YOU SO MUCH :)

Rating: T - TEENS ((for now, but there WILL BE explicit stuff later sooo (18+ MINORS DNI)

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect, 2018) x F!Reader

Warnings: Good old enemies-to-lovers trope. age gap (10 years). Nothing super descriptive for Reader but they are described as having hair. Tension, ofc, especially sexual tension out the wahzoo. Adult language. Mentions of food and eating but nothing descriptive. Alotta feelings and things of that nature. Banter. Fighting. Insults, Flirting. It’s E-to-L, you know where this is going. Smoking (herbal cigarettes). A teensy bit of man-handling. Feral Ezra (he’s about at 68.9% in this chapter). If there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in :)

Word Count: 4k

Summary!: As I said in the warnings: It’s Enemies to Lovers, y’all. Reader’s joined Ezra’s crew on some forsaken planet as a prospector rookie fresh out of the academy, while he’s a seasoned veteran. She hates him, he hates her. And chaos ensues.

A/N: REWRITTEN & REFORMATTED ON: 12/24/23

******

“Remember when you tried to write me off? (Haha)

Remember when you thought I'd take a loss?”

“If we hold that equivalent exchange persists in this space then we must give something of ourselves in order to build something new, in order to purge the bowels of this fecund wood for treasures made our own. Some of us have the proclivity for greatness while most do not. And those ambitious masses are the sacrifice this forest demands so that the true diviners can stand atop the mountain of corpses and claim their riches.”

You roll your eyes at the prospector’s monologuing, even as the other prospectors on your crew talk with him animatedly in agreement with his words. This is the second time today Ezra’s simple talking has pissed you off. The first was in the dining tent during breakfast when he went on a whole spiel about how “mercoy berries are better than mugwort root for sedation because they are 20 times more potent when digested with a shot of cider due to a chemical compound mixture present in both!” for a whole 15 minutes. 

You two didn’t get along when he talked - which was basically every minute of the day - and even in his very rare moments of silence he managed to tick you off one way or another. Still, there was something truly remarkable about the way he spoke. An itch that constantly made you want to shove a fistful of dirt down his throat.

“What is it, rookie? Are you afraid of the work it will take? The risk that it will fail?” He asks, his voice dripping with disdain as he calls you a rookie. He knew your name, just as you knew his, but neither of you referred to each other directly other than ‘vet’ and ‘rookie’, both of those terms full of contempt.

You're no stranger to hard work - you grew up in a prospecting town, for Kevvasake - but it's just something about the way he speaks to you that gets under your skin. Like he thinks he can talk you around to doing what he wants. Like you're just some cog in his machine.

 Not to mention the fact that he’s just an overall cocky bastard. You scoff at him and meet his eyes with a narrowed gaze of your own. But you don’t let this back-and-forth make you stop as you carefully extract another gem from its sack, then carefully place it in the case along with your other earnings of the morning.

“How about you quit yammering and get back to work, vet?” You say with a hard stare as you continue working, prompting the other men around to refocus on the task at hand. Ezra glares back at you, his lips pressed together into an angry line.

“You will speak to your elders with the respect they deserve.” He speaks in a low tone of warning, his hand balling into a fist at his side.

“Hmm, you’re only - what - about 30 years my senior based on looks, and we’re the same rank so no, I don’t think I will.” He’s clearly not 30 years older than you, probably more like 10, but you can tell it irritates him when you directly call him ‘old.’

“Respect does not come with rank, and do not act otherwise,” He spits back. “I have learned more about this world than you will ever even see, rook. You are just an entitled child and your attitude will be the downfall of this operation. That I promise you.” He retorts back and you notice the other men taking interest in your exchange. You look at them, then at him, stopping your work fully now and crossing your arms over your chest, spurred on by both his response and the attention of the other workers around you.

“Oh, I’m the ‘entitled one’?” You scoff again. “Not you who goes around speaking like he knows more than any of us, who acts like he’s better just because he has experience?” You ask, unafraid of calling him out. It was true after all; he constantly paraded around like he was superior to all of you, even those who were just as skilled as him.

Ezra stares you down for a long moment, the two of you locked in a battle of wills. You can almost see the gears turning in his head as he calculates his next move. He's never been the type to back down from a fight and you know it's only a matter of time before he says something that escalates things further. But then there’s a shift in his eyes as he takes a breath.

“Are you finished?” He asks in a deadly calm voice. You can see the anger in his eyes, and it makes you smirk as you drop your arms from their defensive stance.

“No, but I’ll save my comments for the sake of work.” You respond with a small smile that clearly doesn’t reach your eyes as you glare at him right after.

“Wise,” he replies, his voice dripping with contempt. He takes a deep breath and turns away from you before beginning to speak to one of your crewmates.

He avoids looking at you directly for the remainder of the shift, but you can feel his gaze on you as he watches you from the corner of his eye. You know there will be consequences for this later. You’re not afraid of him though. You two tend to get into these petty arguments all the time, so much so that it’s part of your routine now. Just like prospecting, it’s something you’re used to, something you know the ins and outs of. If he was really interested in killing you for these petty squabbles, he would’ve done it a long time ago. No real rivals would stand for even an ounce of disrespect out here, especially in front of the other crew members. It was a sign of weakness, seen as pathetic. Which tells you that he must either be really forgiving or really into this. You’re not quite sure what to make of either one of those conclusions.

What happens next seems to follow your typical pattern. It’s all a cycle now: you and Ezra fight, both of you get increasingly bitter, and eventually, you call a temporary truce to get the work done. Your pride can't handle backing down from a fight, and his can't take the shame of losing. It's a routine you both have fallen into from the very beginning.  

At the end of the day, you head to your tent only to drop off your earnings and get out of your suit. After a good shower, you feel refreshed and cool. This leaves you in just your black longjohns before you head straight to the giant dining tent, your mind hyper-fixated on your hunger as you watch the suns begin to set.

The tents are the only shelter you’ve got. There are 40 square-foot ones for each prospector, though those who are friends or companions share if they don't mind the lack of space or privacy. Those 15 structures are packed relatively close together in a semi-circle amongst the trees. Then, there’s the dining tent on the other side of camp, a 200 square feet structure where everyone can dine comfortably enough, again if a bit cramped. At the heart of the camp is the watchtower you all built to keep guard night after night, one or two prospectors taking shifts. Other than that, it’s all trees and bushes and foliage. No buildings or manmade structures for yards, though you know there’s a system of caves a good 3 miles to the east.

Thankfully, though, none of it is a huge issue. This planet is relatively habitable, at least compared to other planets you’ve visited and studied. You all can actually roam around without the suits and helmets for a good while, though you still wear them out on the digs as protection against the elements and as armor against potential danger. 

Your eyes scan the dining tent as you enter. You see a total of 23 prospectors sitting together in small clusters throughout the space, exchanging stories and laughs. Some of them acknowledge your entrance with a smile or a nod your way, but most keep their attention on their conversations and their food. You’re civil with the men, and you know they mostly respect you now that you've proven yourself capable as a prospector, but you’ve made sure not to ‘make friends’, something relatively easy for you to do out here. You’re far older than most rookies, as most are between the ages of 20 to 25 fresh out of the Academy, so you know that gives some of them pause. But, they don’t need to know exactly what you know, given your advantages of growing up knowing the tricks of the trade.

You get into the serving line and grab your grub, piling plenty onto your tray before leaving the tent and sitting a few feet away, not wanting to go back to your own tent just yet. You’re about to eat when you spot Ezra stopping with his own tray a few yards farther away, also dressed down, though he’s in sweats and a t-shirt. His eyes meet yours and he smirks even as his eyes show clear resentment, nodding at you. You scowl and simply nod once, trying to direct your attention back to your meal. You both begin to eat precisely at the same time and even that small and organic coincidence irritates you.

All too soon, your eyes meet once more and there's just that same, hateful stare between you two. All still a part of your routine with him. You try to focus on your food, but the longer he stares, the more you feel your temper rising again. 

It’s been that way since you first joined their crew as a new rookie only four and a half months ago, so his request for you to respect him wasn’t completely unwarranted, even if it did bother you. He’s a skilled veteran, even when compared to you. If the crew’s talk is anything to go by, he had been advanced in his learning at the Academy, having graduated at just 18. And that just irritates you further. Because out here, that matters more than anything, and he’s treated with a certain superiority because of his skill level and experience by the other crew members. Aside from you, of course.

“What?” You snap at him as you eat, feeling hot under his stare, but you attribute that to your irritation.

“Oh, nothing. Just admirin’ the view, rookie,” he says plainly, his lips pursed into an insincere half-smile. He's trying to goad you into action again and he's doing a good job of hiding it. As the only woman on the crew, you're used to men making lewd comments. They're never as subtle as Ezra is though, and you can tell he's getting a kick out of ticking you off. You roll your eyes.

“How about you take a picture then, it’ll last longer?” You say, even as your cheeks go very slightly flustered at his words. Ezra breaks out into laughter, a deep and belly-shaking sound that you've never heard from him before. He wipes his eyes and takes a sip of his canteen, his laughter finally dying down. 

"That actually got a laugh out of me, not gonna lie," He confesses. "I'll have to remember that one." His demeanor is almost different. He's more relaxed, his shoulders unhunched. He doesn’t say anything else and you eventually go back to your food, even as he continues to watch you, eating his own food across from you, silently. You’ve noticed that in him. When you two are around the men, he takes on a more hostile, macho bravado but in these rare moments when you two are alone, he lets that fall away. It’s almost as frustrating as the man himself.

You’re determined not to snap at him again. So you ignore him instead, watching the suns leave their final rays behind as they disappear into the horizon line to the west. But now you’re finishing up and you glance at him. The two of you exchange another long look, but this time it's not as hostile. It’s actually kind of… peaceful. Then you remember your place quickly and glare at him, scoffing under your breath.

"Ya know, you're not as bad as I give ya credit for, rook," Ezra says after a few more moments of silence. He pushes his plate to the side and pulls an herbal cigarette from the breast pocket of his shirt. You watch him with a puzzled look. Where in Kevva’s name did he get contraband from? You know your boss considers him a second-in-command, but would he really let him get away with contraband out here? You want to ask him but he speaks again, "Don't tell the crew, but I think there's still a chance for us to be friends." His face is a stark contrast compared to the scowls and glares he's often shot you in the past. He gives you a wry half-smile as he lights his cigarette with the lighter on his multitool.

You bark out a laugh. “Like I’d ever be friends with you.” You respond with another glare

"See? This is why we don't get along. You're stubborn to a fault and you'll be the death of us all," Ezra gestures to you with the cigarette held between his index and middle fingers, shaking his head. He takes a drag from it and blows a thick cloud of smoke out towards the horizon. You don’t respond. After all, he’s partially right. You are stubborn, but you’re not ashamed of that fact. It’s how you got here, and you’re proud of it. His features become unreadable as he continues, 

"And yet... I still see somethin’ in you, despite your numerous flaws...” He adds, his expression suddenly pensive. He shrugs lightly with a small smile. “Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment." There’s a sudden shift when he says that last bit that makes you pause. His tone was almost… flirtatious? But it was incredibly subtle. You almost missed it. Still, it’s not enough to deter you. 

“Well, at least I’m not a prideful pompous ass who can’t get a grip on reality and blames others instead of his own ego on his lack of ‘friends’.” You retort and stand up to leave, leaving your food tray. Ezra looks taken aback by your statement at first, but he quickly recovers and stands to his feet as well, leaving his too. He takes another long drag from his cigarette before tossing it out onto the forest floor, crushing it under his boot. He starts to follow after you, saying something that you don't quite catch before he trails off into the distance. You're almost to your tent when you think you hear him mutter it again under his breath,

"Starflower..." You freeze. Your body pricks up at the name. You’ve heard it before but only once. It was a pet name you’ve heard used affectionately on the planet Ezra’s from. You turn slowly, your eyes narrowed again at him.

“What did you call me?” You ask. Ezra stops in his tracks and turns to face you. His hands are up, but only a little, as if to show you he’s not here to fight. His features are still relaxed, though there's a hint of something deeper, more serious behind his eyes.

"You heard me," he says calmly, taking a step towards you. "But if you need me to repeat it, I can." You narrow your eyes at him again and your own fingers brush your holster.

“Call me that again…” You start and take a step towards him, just one, in warning. “And you’ll lose your head, vet.” You say, your voice cold. A part of you isn’t entirely sure why you’re acting this way. You’ve been called way worse out here on expeditions. Other terms of endearment like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘princess’ from these other jagoffs don’t really bother you. But something about the way he says that… something about the way it rolls off of his tongue. It’s making your blood boil.

"Starflower..." Ezra repeats, taking another step towards you. He raises an eyebrow and gives you a cocky smile, daring you to do your worst. He reaches out and grabs your wrist, his grip impossibly firm but not enough to hurt you. He brings his face close to yours, close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheek. He speaks again. "Try me, rookie. I dare you." His voice is low and quiet.

You make a sound of surprise at his actions. Your eyes widen slightly as he leans in towards you and you don’t know how to feel at his sudden proximity. 

“Get your filthy hands off of me.” You warn.

“Make me." Ezra's voice is low. He brings his face even closer to yours, your lips only inches apart. His grasp on your wrist tightens only slightly as if he’s making it clear his intention is not to actually harm you. You can feel his hot breath on your cheek, his gaze unwavering. There’s a sudden shift in the air. And there’s something in his eyes that you notice, something you don’t think you’ve seen before. It’s an intensity in his gaze that you’re now positive you’ve never seen before. And for the first time since you’ve met him, you feel a slight flutter in your stomach as your eyes search his.

The silence between you two stretches on as neither one of you dares to move or speak or even breathe it seems. The longer he holds you like this, the longer you become aware of various things about him you had never bothered to notice before. Like the amber flecks in his deep brown eyes, the way his bottom lip is so much fuller than his top lip. The faded moon-shaped scar that curves down his cheek towards his jawline, just under his right eye. The way his facial hair has a heart-shaped patch on that same side of his jaw, right next to his chin. Things you’ve only noticed now that he’s here up close. You can also smell the herbal cigarette on his breath. A heady mix of juniper, lavender, and peppermint. You’re surprised that it’s not a totally unappealing smell. It’s actually… kind of nice.

You’re only partially aware of his eyes scanning your face as if doing the same to you. He now notices the exact color of your own eyes. The exact outline of your mouth, the furrow between your brows. His gaze seems to soften as he looks at you. 

And just as he seems to let his guard down, you move. 

You react fast, pushing him off of you, the suddenness and forcefulness with which you move causing him to release you, and he further moves back a couple of feet. You grab your thrower and aim it, panting. You’re not sure if it’s from the panic of earlier or his actions. Ezra steps back and holds his hands up in surrender, though his eyes remain locked onto yours. He seems strangely unconcerned about the fact that you're pointing a weapon at him. A slight grin plays at the corner of his lips and you swear he's enjoying this. You've seen him calm in tense situations before, but never quite like this. It almost seems like he's savoring the moment. He takes another slow step back, his hands still raised. He doesn't say anything, but his smile grows broader as he meets your gaze.

“This is your last warning, vet. Back. Off.” You say, your face red. Kevvasake, why can’t you stop thinking about what just happened? This is the clearest warning yet. You don’t actually want to hurt him, but you won’t hesitate if you have to.

Ezra remains silent, his eyes boring into yours as you keep your weapon trained on him. He takes a final step backward, his face still calm and relaxed. He shows you the back of his hands as if to say, "See? No weapons." But you know it's all an act, he's got multiple throwing knives concealed about his person, just like any good prospector should. He's enjoying the tension, he's living for it. The look in his eye is one of pure thrill. You would never say it out loud, but you feel the same. The tension, the thrill, the spontaneity of it all. It’s addicting. And you hate it. You scoff and holster your thrower. You know he’d never hurt you. You roll your eyes at him again. 

“Right.” Ezra nods in approval, the corner of his mouth curling just enough to show a hint of a playful smirk. A brief thought crosses your mind, a thought you know you shouldn't allow to take root, but that somehow manages to anyway. Why do you not hate him? He's arrogant, he's egotistical, he goes out of his way to be insufferably rude. And yet, you can't help but be drawn in by his charm and confidence. Why do you let him get to you? What is it about him that makes you want to come back? You feel a shiver go down your spine at that but don’t let it get to you.

“Are you done?” You ask, stealing his own line from earlier to once again call up that temporary truce between you two. Your voice is less hostile than it was moments ago, but still not anywhere near friendly.

“For now,” he says with a smirk. The way his voice holds the same playful tone as before makes your blood heat and your face go flush. He takes a step closer again, closing the distance between the two of you. His face is inches from yours, his eyes trained on yours as he reaches up one hand, hesitating. Your eyes zero in on his hand in mid-air, a mixture of conflicting emotions running through you. You can’t help but feel your heart flutter at the almost touch. His hand falls away and you suddenly become aware that your breath is now shallow. Did he want to touch you? An even more important question follows: did you want him to touch you? You shake it off, doing your best to ignore your racing heart. You step away from him, feeling suddenly breathless.

“Well, fine, good night, Ezra.” You say pointedly and quickly scan the area, wondering if anyone out here saw. However, you two are still thankfully alone. You turn to head into your tent. Ezra gives you one last smile before his features return to their customary scowl as he heads toward his tent. Once you make it inside, you wait a few moments with bated breath, as if he will come back. But the only remainder of him is the scent of juniper, lavender, and mint in the night air.

You toss and turn on your cot for several hours as you ponder what happened tonight. You've had your fair share of run-ins with the prospector, but none of them have ever ended with such an intensity of emotion. Something's different this time, you just don't know what it is quite yet.

Sudden realization strikes you like a bolt of lightning from the clear night sky.

You don't hate Ezra.

You like him.

Kevvasake.

******

Wake up, I had another idea when I was very sleep deprived! So, this is probably gonna be a series (don’t ask me how long, you all know I never plan ahead) BUT, I’ve got about 3 chapters written out already and I’ll probably update within the next week/week and a half. Let me know what you all think of this, I realize now this is my first time doing E-to-L and so I might totally suck at this haha. Anyway, that’s it, thanks a million, hope you all enjoyed, and see you in the next one!

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Read Chapter 2: Clean!

[formula-fun]

hiii its me again,,,,

with more prose that makes me insane

"Tragedy takes and takes, for both of them. Max is trying to learn how to grow older; softer. He’s trying to dream of slower things, but it won’t stop people from poking at what he tries to forget—romanticizing all the bad bits and gilding them into their history right alongside the worst days of Charles’ life. People love a tragedy.

Not this, though. This isn’t for the history books. He won’t have people rewatch the podiums where Charles wouldn’t even look Max in the eye and know it was because something horrible happened, and Max didn’t know what to do; didn’t know how to ask for comfort or answers. And Charles—people already remember him in mourning before they remember anything else, and that’s already unfair. They like to treat his life like a play, spilling onto the stage in perfectly romanticized pain. Max won’t have this spilling across it too; won’t have Charles’ grief, his guilt, his self-flagellation, Max’s uselessness to make it right, the two of them ripping themselves apart and beating themselves bloody against each other’s ramparts, their dream of something gentle dead between their feet—he won’t have it added to the list below Max’s shitty childhood and Charles’ monthly visits to the Monaco Cemetery."

I just.

your ability to seamlessly switch between narration of events like races and sex and then just almost a poem of the characters thoughts in that moment is just insane

I think max's refusal to let charles' grief be commodified ( i hope that's the right word) or used to generate clicks like how almost anything that occurs today is used by f1 'journalists' feels rlly organic?

I won't say in character bc idk any of these men but I feel like this determination to keep what's between them, between them is very sjdnsjdb I don't have the words I hope you understand my incoherent rambling sorry

Another line that really stood out to me was when charles says that max understands that 'he enjoys podiums, not pedestals'

just. FERAL. Jsbbdnxbxj

the whole il predestinato title is beautiful and romantic and I will forever be unwell ab it but I wonder at the deification of ferrari bc like. wow. red god whom you love with every fiber of your being, who loves you back but. akdnbxjdnd BUT.

anyway sorry, I hope you don't mind that I'm doing these excerpt dissecting thingies I'm. very insane.

☀️

no no no never apologize!!!!! i love this so much <3333

this is all so on point honestly! what you said about being in character...i dont know these people at all and completely made this read up, but that's 100% what this fic is getting at?? they grew up racing and giving interviews and crashing out and they can be really rational about all of that because its just in their nature. they can sacrifice whatever they need to and behave however they need to for their teams and their success, and they don't question it because it's just who they are. in a way there's even solace in recognizing that it's a trait they share and they're not alone in it. theyre like the scorpion and the frog except they're both the scorpion which is an idea that keeps me up at night because not to be fake deep and pretentious but i feel like scorpions probably have a very different understanding of that story than frogs do. i might be insane

ANYWAY what that all means is it's really new to build something together that's just for them and that isn't about racing or expectations or even about gender roles, it's about love and honesty and trust. it's really new and scary but it's also really freeing. dont ask me how the a/b/o porny fic became about that, but the whole point of it is them finding new ways to see themselves based on the stability they've found with each other. or something. and that's why max is protective of their real actual vulnerabilities and why both of them kind of treat il predestinato/the inevitable mythos as a fun story but ultimately not a very serious one

the bit you quoted is sooo highly ranked for me <3 it relates very directly to telescope by boy & bear which became such a max song for this fic, especially "i've adjusted all my dreams for something slow // and it's a softening that age has taught me well // for the things i cannot change i must let go" like hhh its HIM

anyway thank you for thiiis i always love discussing my fic <3333

[ga-yuu]

[Tamed By A Devilish Love Event] - Kurama Story

WARNING! Smut content, public sex.

---Chapter 1----

One day at the teahouse, the sun was shining warmly for the first time in a long time, while the cold days continued.

Kurama: "You look even more excited today than ever."

Yoshino: "Fufu, why wouldn't I?"

Yoshino: "It's been a long time since we've gone out like this. And the silversmith shop we looked at earlier was lovely too."

Kurama: "Yeah, that shop's craftsmanship isn't bad."

(Kurama seems to be in a good mood)

(Can I assume that shiny items are not the only reason?)

A peaceful time for the two of us.

I was enjoying my tea, looking out at the busy street, feeling a little buoyant.

Little boy: "Ah...!"

A boy running along the road trips over something on the road and falls down.

Kurama: "Quite a spectacular fall."

I see Kurama, who is sitting next to me, muttering something as if he was uninterested.

Kurama: "Hm? Hey..."

Without waiting for Kurama, I ran up to the little boy.

Yoshino: "Are you okay?"

Little boy: "M-Mm..."

(Ah, his knee got hurt)

Yoshino: "It might hurt a little, so please bear with it."

(Thank god, I bought some medicines with me)

I gently wiped the dirt from the boy's knees with a towel and applied wound dressing.

Yoshino: "Everything will be okay now. You're a brave boy, you didn't cry at all."

Little boy: "...!"

The moment our eyes meet, the boy's eyes widened and his cheeks turned red.

Little boy: "Nn..."

Turning his face away from me, the boy panicked and stood up. Then he quickly ran away.

(Ah...)

Kurama: "What happened?"

Yoshino: "Umm..."

Sueharu: "Ahh, you're so sinful, Yoshino."

Yoshino: "Sueharu-san!"

Kurama: "Why are you here?"

Sueharu: "I was in the neighborhood for work and I saw the two of you."

Sueharu: "And yet...that boy's first love is a kind older sister. Isn't that cute?"

Kurama: "...First love?"

Kurama reacted with a frown.

Sueharu: "It's a trend among men to fall for older women, don't you know?"

Sueharu: "Well, maybe it's the same for women."

Kurama: "Why date older men? I don't understand."

(...Even Kurama is an older man...)

Sueharu: "It happens to humans all the time. Don't you demons do the same?"

Kurama: "No. Don't put me in the same league as humans."

Sueharu: "Haa? How boring."

Sueharu: "But then again, the only older people Kurama has been with were Ibuki and Tamamo, so I get it..."

Kurama: "All I know is that it is unpleasant or are asking me to kill you?"

Sueharu: "Sorry sorry. Don't bring out your iron fan."

Yoshino: "Now now! No violence here."

I feel Kurama's red eyes glinting as he smiles with a feral face, and I rush to intervene between the two of them.

Yoshino: "And that's probably not what that was about."

Kurama: "...Then?"

Yoshino: "I think he was just shy. Maybe he was embarrassed that he fell."

Sueharu: "I think so too. He did fall down pretty hard."

Kurama: "Even so."

Kurama: "Yoshino gave him charity in the first place and to leave without saying thank you is...."

Kurama: "It's irreverent behavior, even for a child."

Kurama: "Yoshino, if you want, I will bring him back now and make him beg for forgiveness. I'll also make him pay for it with death."

Yoshino: "That's too much!"

Sueharu: "In Kurama's language, he meant he would spank the kid for doing something wrong."

Yoshino: "Sueharu-san...! Don't encourage him!"

Sueharu: "Pfftt, sorry sorry."

(Seriously though...)

Sueharu-san smiled, which shows no sign of offense, making me relax.

Kurama: "...."

(Kurama?)

For some reason, I felt like Kurama looked grumpy.

Sueharu: "Are you jealous, Kurama?"

Yoshino: "Eh?'

(Kurama is jealous?)

I can't make the connection between the words and was stumped.

Kurama: "You really want to die, don't you? Sueharu."

Sueharu: "Nope."

Sueharu: "But Kurama seemed a little grumpy just now."

Kurama frowned even more.

Kurama: "I'm not jealous, but offended."

Kurama: "A kid like that is a hundred years too early to be laying eyes on my property."

Looks like Kurama just can't get over the 'first love' fact.

(He's jealous after all...)

(But it's not like I'm planning to date some kid)

Sueharu: "Heh..."

Sueharu: "Yoshino must be having a hard time dealing with her possessive boyfriend."

(Possessive boyfriend)

Perfect words to describe Kurama.

(As for Kurama's possessiveness, I think he's----)

An image of a certain person comes to my mind.

Yoshino: "That's right when it comes to Yoshitsune-sama, Kurama is very possessive."

Seeing me, Kurama sighed.

Kurama: "Nonsense. I'm not possessive about him. I just want his soul and I'll take it sooner or later."

Kurama: "That's all there is to is. I don't plan on giving him to anyone else."

(And...of course, Kurama seems unaware of his possessiveness)

Sueharu-san, who was listening to our exchange, laughed happily.

Sueharu: "Of course, he's possessive about Yoshitsune-sama..."

Sueharu: "But I don't think he's the only target of his obsession and possessiveness, Yoshino..."

Saying those words.

(Hm?)

Sueharu-san's arm smoothly goes around my shoulder....

Kurama: "Hey."

Yoshino: "!"

Just before his hand can touch me, Kurama brushed Sueharu-san's hand away.

Then he tightly hugged me.

Kurama: "Sueharu, she's mine. Don't you dare touch her."

Sueharu: "See?"

Yoshino: "Mm..."

Sueharu-san raised his hand and chuckled while I was stunned because of his teasing.

(Seriously...)

Possessive and greedy.

My cheeks turn red while I was trapped in Kurama's arms.

After that day----

(I came home late because I had more house calls than usual)

(I wonder what Kurama is doing. It's still early, maybe he's drinking)

I was almost about to pass through the gate when---

???: "Um, excuse me."

---Chapter 2----

Yoshino: "Yes?"

Someone called me from behind. When I turn around, I see a man, who I have never seen before, standing.

Man: "Are you the pharmacist who works in this mansion?"

Yoshino: "Yes, that's me."

Man: "Ah, great! Actually..."

The man introduced himself as the father of the little boy, I helped yesterday.

After hearing from his son, he came all the way to thank me.

Man: "The owner of the teahouse saw the whole situation and told me that you work here."

Man: "I want to apologize first...my son didn't thank you yesterday."

Yoshino: "It's okay. I'm happy that your son is energetic and healthy."

Man: "Thank you. It makes me happy to hear that about my son because he has been growing under rough circumstances."

The man scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little embarrassed.

Man: "To tell the truth, my wife passed away early in my life. Since then I've been raising him with my own hands, so I haven't been able to do much...."

Man: "Oh, I'm sorry, for saying something depressing. This is a thank-you gift...I hope you like sweets."

Yoshino: "Oh no, you shouldn't have.."

Man: "No no, please, I insist."

The man placed the package in my hands and thanked me repeatedly and left.

(I see. So that kid's mother...)

Feeling a little sad, I held the package tightly and headed toward the gate.

...............

Kurama: "What a surprise, you've got something I'm not familiar with."

Yoshino: "It's a gift, shall we eat together?"

I opened the package, revealing delicious-looking dumplings.

Yoshino: "Oh, this is..."

I recognised the name of the restaurant on the package.

Kurama: "Why are you surprised at mere dumplings?"

Yoshino: "It's not just 'mere'. It's from a store that is popular among women in Hiraizumi."

From what I've heard, you even have to wait up in a queue early in the morning to get your hands on one of these.

(Probably because he heard that it was a woman who treated his son, he took the trouble to buy it)

(He really cares about his son)

I think of the face of the man I just met and feel warm and fuzzy at the same time.

And then---

Kurama: "Yoshino."

Yoshino: "!"

He raised my chin and forced me to look at him.

Kurama: "Why are you looking depressed when you're with me? What are you thinking?"

Kurama: "----Did something happen?"

(Eh...)

Kurama: "If there's anything that's bothering you, tell me. I'll get rid of it."

(G-Get rid of it!?)

(Extreme as always)

But I can also sense the love from those words.

I couldn't help but giggle.

Yoshino: "Fufu..it's alright. Here, have one dumpling..."

I urged him to do so, but Kurama took my hand instead of the dumplings.

Kurama: "......"

A grim face approached me, as if not quite convinced....

Yoshino: "Mm...!?

I don't know why he's kissing me right now.

(Why so suddenly?)

When I tried to move away, he held my waist tightly and I fail to escape.

(Ah...)

His tongue sneakily enters my lips and tickled my mouth. My body jumped from this impact.

Yoshino: "Kurama..Mm wait..."

Kurama: "You sound too weak to resist..."

Yoshino: "Mm..."

The more I tried to resist, the more violent the kiss becomes.

When I began to relax, my lips were finally released.

Kurama: "If you were thinking of anyone but me, now's the time to tell me. You don't want it to be too bad, do you?"

Yoshino: "Nn...."

From the lecherous smile to his sex appeal, my heart started racing.

(I have nothing to hide...)

When I was about to open my mouth, Sueharu-san's words comes to my mind.

----FLASHBACK----

Sueharu: "I don't think Yoshitsune-sama is the only target of Kurama's obsession and possessiveness."

---FLASHBACK ENDS----

(Kurama's possessiveness is directed at me as well)

Even though he had nothing to be jealous of.

(In order to avoid misunderstanding, I have to convey it properly...)

Kurama: "Your time's up. You've kept me waiting."

Yoshino: "! Kurama..Hmm.."

Kurama, who seems to have run out of patience, started kissing me again.

In the end, I was swept away and missed the opportunity to clear the misunderstanding.

A few days later---

I happened to meet the boy's father again, on the way home.

Man: "Actually, I'm getting remarried soon."

Yoshino: "Really? Congratulations."

Man: "Thank you, but..."

Yoshino: "? What's wrong?"

Man: "Nothing..it's just, I'm not sure if my son will get along with his new mother."

Yoshino: "I see..."

Yoshino: "Don't worry, it will be awkward at first."

Yoshino: "But if you give him sometime, he will soon warm up to her..."

Man: "Yeah..I would be happy if she could also be a good mother to my son."

The man smiled sadly and left.

(I hope you live happily with your new family)

While thinking about both the father and the son, I walked towards my house with a smile.

At that time,

Suddenly, someone pulled my arm and forced me inside a dark alley.

Yoshino: "!?"

Someone was grabbing me tightly from behind.

Yoshino: "No..Let go..."

When I struggled and tried to shout, I was immediately blocked by a kiss on the lips.

Yoshino: "...!"

I tried to put up a desperate resistance, but I was held so tightly that I could not even move.

The darkness makes it difficult to see the person's face, and tears of fear well up in my eyes.

(No, I don't want this...! Kurama...)

Just as I was struggling to escape, moonlight shone through a gap in the clouds.

Yoshino: "!"

The tear-streaked vision reflects eyes so sharp that they seem to shoot through me...

Kurama: "...."

(Kurama...?)

(It was Kurama after all...)

The moment I realized it was Kurama, my trembling fear fizzled out and relief set in.

I stopped resisting and Kurama too stopped kissing.

Yoshino: "Why did you do that?"

Kurama: "----That's supposed to be my line."

(...!)

The voice that mutters in an abhorrent manner is filled with unmistakable anger.

The anger pierces my skin and I held my breath.

Kurama: "You were late, so I came to pick you up..."

Kurama: "I never thought I'd see you being taken cared of by another man...."

(Eh?)

My eyes widened in surprise.

Yoshino: "Wait, what?"

Kurama: "Are you really going to play dumb? I saw you talking to him a few minutes ago."

Kurama: "I'll tear that man into pieces later."

Kurama: "Not until I make sure he fully understands what it means to steal something so important from me."

(Did he misunderstand my conversation with that man?)

Yoshino: "No Kurama, it's.."

I rushed to explain myself, but he grabbed me by the shoulders and held me against the wall.

Kurama: "Shut up. Now I'm going to punish you. All you have to think about is how to make me happy."

Yoshino: "...!"

(Kurama's eyes...different from usual)

The eyes burning with anger made my body tremble with fear....

Premium END

Kurama: "Shut up. Now I'm going to punish you. All you have to think about is how to make me happy."

Yoshino: "...!"

(Kurama's eyes...different from usual)

The eyes burning with anger made my body tremble with fear....

Before I could speak, he steals my lips again.

Yoshino: "Mm..Mmm..."

The lips are parted and the smooth tongue traces my teeth.

The wet sounds of our kisses filled me with shame and I tried my best to shake off the feeling, but I couldn't...

(Ah...)

My hands were pinned above my head, blocking my movements.

Kurama: "Give up resisting. I will not allow you to run away."

Yoshino: "...! Wait..Hmm.."

He keeps kissing me again and his free hand opens my kimono.

(I can't run away...and we're in public. I don't want anyone to pass by at any moment)

Yoshino: "Ah..Mm.."

A hand inserted through the kimono roughly grazes my skin, increasing my shame and fright.

The pleasure given is also mixed with pain, and my breathing is becoming more and more erratic.

Kurama: "You look like you're in pain."

Yoshino: "Haa..Ah.."

He finally released my lips and desperately I adjust my breathing.

(It's Kurama, but...)

The one-sided making out left me so lightheaded that I can't even come up with a counter-argument.

Kurama looked at me and smiled happily.

Kurama: "I'm going to bring out every single desire and pleasure you have inside of you. Aren't you excited?"

Yoshino: "Mm..."

(Kurama is still angry...)

In the depths of his eyes that reflect my image, the flames of anger caused by jealousy still dwell.

(But, that's not all)

(My reaction to being misunderstood and weakly refusing to be held outside...)

(It's all inciting Kurama's demonic instincts)

I desperately find words to resolve the misunderstanding as soon as possible.

Yoshino: "You're misunderstanding...it's nothing like that.."

Kurama: "Oh? So you still have the strength to talk back.."

Yoshino: "Please...listen..Ahh.."

He sucks my collarbone area and I tremble.

The movement of his tongue made me shiver but I still keep talking.

Yoshino: "That man is the father of the little boy, we met a few days ago..."

Yoshino: "He was thanking me for helping his son."

Yoshino: "He was also saying that he's getting remarried soon...that's all..."

Kurama: "...."

I falter as I talk because he kept touching me.

Kurama listened to me until the end.

Kurama: "I see, I get it now."

Kurama raises his head, that was buried in my neck.

Yoshino: "Really..?"

(Finally, I was able to clear the misunderstanding)

The light of hope that shines through, brightens my face.

Kurama: "I have something to ask you."

Kurama: "You came back the other day with a box of sweets, saying they were a gift. Who gave them to you?"

Yoshino: "...!"

He shrugged his shoulders.

Kurama stared at me for a while and smiled coldly.

Kurama: "No answer?"

Yoshino: "..It's not like I wanted to hide..its just that..."

Kurama: "Were you afraid of me? Both you and Sueharu called me a possessive man."

Yoshino: "...Nn Ah!"

After a whisper that pours directly into my ear, I get a sweet bite on my earlobe.

My breathing started to become heavy once more.

Yoshino: "Because Kurama..gave me a kiss..that time."

Yoshino: "I was so happy to be able to touch Kurama..."

Kurama: "...So you're saying that you got lost in the kiss and missed the chance to tell me?"

Yoshino: "Yes, sorry..."

The hand that had been holding my both hands together is now straining and I look up.

Yoshino: "Kurama...?"

Kurama: "...."

The red eyes are more intense than before...

The next moment, he pulled open my kimono completely and I was forced to stand with a bare upper body.

Yoshino: "!? No No..Wai..ahh mm..."

His finger presses the tips of my breast and I scream in pleasure.

Kurama: "Your body belongs to me from head to toe, down to the last strand of your hair."

Yoshino: "Ku..ra.ma..not here..."

The finger that was pinching and rolling my nipples continued to give me pleasure without stopping.

Kurama: "You have not a shred of persuasion left in your after such a winning performance."

Kurama: "I know when and where to touch you."

Yoshino: "Ah..ahh..no...not here..."

My body that has known many kinds of pleasure, is undeniably heightened by a single fingertip.

My kimono was taken off and barely covered my skin anymore.

When the wind touches my skin, the cool air made me realize once again that we were outside and it added even more shame.

(I feel strange...)

Even I think so in my head..

My body reacted to the boisterous words and rough caresses.

Kurama: "Your screams and cries of pleasure only arouse me even more."

Kurama: "Your body, your heart, even your soul, forever must be loved by me."

Yoshino: "Nn..."

The next moment his breath touched my ear---

Yoshino: "1? No Wait"

His hand goes between my legs.

Yoshino: "Nn...! Ah ah ahh..."

The finger bend in a crooked shape and touched the most sensitive part of my body and a sweet numbness rushes up from the waist to the back.

Yoshino: "...Haa...Ahh.."

(N-No way...)

As I was shaking my body in the afterglow, I heard a voice laughing joyfully.

Kurama: "I didn't think it would take this much to reach that level. But..."

Yoshino: "!"

I look up when I feel his finger crawling on the wet spot again.

Kurama was looking at me with a sadistic smile....

Kurama: "Keep your legs open. No matter how embarrassing it is, don't ever close them."

Yoshino: "...No.."

I almost close my legs at the feel of his fingers tracing the entrance, but...

Kurama: "Every time you say 'no', it just gets worse."

Yoshino: "....!"

(Why..?)

I looked at Kurama with trepidation, but I could tell from his expression that he was not joking.

Kurama: "If that's how you want, then you can keep saying no as many times you want."

Kurama: "We can stay here until dawn.."

Kurama: "I'll give you the sweetest torture until humans start passing by."

Yoshino: "..Ahh..Mm..Mmm.."

(It's embarrassing and I wish it would stop, but...)

As I struggled to keep my shaking legs from closing, Kurama smiled.

Kurama: "Good girl."

Yoshino: "Mm..Haa..Ahh.."

The red eyes that reflected my image are indeed lit with loving light.

But that's a paper-thin line between the atrocity of demons and...

I don't know if it's fear or the anticipation of immoral pleasure that makes my body tremble.

(But now...)

Kurama's fingers move slowly between the inserted legs.

I was also trying to hold back my cries.

I am prepared to be loved until I'm forgiven by the terrifying yet lovely demon to the fullest.

So I closed my eyes gently----

[what-if-nct]

hi hello annyeong! today I realized I am no better than a cat in heat because whyyyyy did an older man show the barest bit of chivalry today and I was ready to thank him on my hands and knees? any way he wanted it.

tbfh, it is not taking a lot anymore to rile me up, cause a stiff breeze will do it. he wasn’t even like, movie star or model grade hot either, just a clean cut older man. it’s the bare minimum for me. he smelled clean, clothes neat, like, why shouldn’t you be out in public not disheveled???? I blame the boss at my job, he came in today with a new hair cut, cologne spritzed up, and just parading around with a saunter that denotes he’s secretly part horse (wink wink wink).

I feel like I need to spritz myself like Blanche Devereau from golden girls. just hot and bothered for no good reason

When I say I feel you, honey I feel you. Like sometimes you just get feral, and you're like a cat in heat I get it! When I think the most wild and obscene things I check my period tracker and low and behold i am in deed in heat. Then when I am not it's something I have to analyze about my character because it gets wild. I just had a thought yesterday I can't say in public but I think I know who you are so I'll tell you later, sorry if I'm wrong but i have good idea I might know. I know a lot of girls hate this and its probably cause for me it's only been guys I'm actually attracted to have done this to me but when a guy moves you over by your waist oh i get weak in the knees. The last time it happened was in Spencer's and like Spencer's is small and he was tall and had like dark kinda long hair and piercings and he just moved me over by my waist I think he worked there and I was like swooning a little bit. Usually it's mostly women and they say excuse me honey or sweetie and im swooning just as much. There is nothing better than a woman calling you honey, baby or sweetie. It's just the best thing. With men it's hit or miss but with women it always hits every time.

[why-not-ask-me-a-better-question]

We’re finally getting some whump, baby! And learn our dear boy’s name. I’m on a bit of a roll today, so I’m going to post a few things.

We got one, Sir

TW: kidnapping, restrained, muzzled, chains, hanging, burning (gore-ish), suffocation, stress position, physical abuse, silver

Taglist: @whumpsday

This raid was the best one of them all. They had lost a few men, but it was all worth it. They isolated one vampire from the rest. With silver weapons at the ready, they were able to wear down the vampire.

It seemed to be a younger vampire, at least its body did. This one was the perfect target. Young and inexperienced. It didn’t know how to survive like an older vampire did. The hunters cut and slashed with experienced blades, tearing the vampire down.

They delivered it to the king quickly, wrapping it in silver chains. After several scraped and cuts, a silver muzzle was added. The thing growled like a wild animal, desperate to escape.

Word spread quickly to the villages, about a feral vampire that was captured. Everyone who was able rushed to the capital just for a chance to see the beast. Because of the high demand, the King decided to display the vampire by hanging it at the gallows.

For the safety of everyone, he stationed 4 hunters to always stand watch. Well, that was the case for the first day. Once the sun came up, screams could be heard from any part of the city. Screams and the smell of burning flesh.

The sunlight scorched the vampire’s skin in a matter of minutes. By the end of the day, it was no more than a writhing mass of char. The hunters didn’t bother to take the creature down during the night. Instead, they left it for the pub down the street.

The vampire was left gasping for air it was not allowed. Its eyes and mouth had melted shut minutes into the day. Once it could no longer hear anyone on the streets, it let itself cry. It sobbed with whatever wheezing breath it could. Silently, it begged for Mother. Praying that she would find it and release it from the hell it found itself in.

The next morning was the same song and dance. Only two guards bothered to come stand watch. People gathered in the square, spewing insults and disparagement. The vampire could only writhe in the pain of the sun, unable to hear the threats.

On the third day, the King allowed for people to beat the creature, deeming it sufficiently subdued. A hunter cut open its melted mouth to hear its screams. The knights passed around silver equipment to all those who wanted a turn. When the sun set, the pain did not.

The drunkards became the worse type to come. They were belligerent and unpredictable. It was lucky if one of them only kicked it around a bit. More often, they’d find worse ways to demean the vampire. The hunters weren’t even there to stop anyone if something happened.

After a week, the vampire was barely recognizable. The town folk had gotten sick of the creature when he no longer screamed or cried. The King had a cell made for the creature made of silver. That was the first time Damien realized that no one would save him.

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝔻𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕖𝕤

___________________

ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Bucky gets hit with that god awful (but really hot) sex pollen. (this was requested)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Dub-Con/Non-Con as per usual with sex pollens fics (although i try to write them as consensual as possible :T) Smut obvi (18+ minors dni), slight daddy kink, age gap?, public male masturbation; it's brief but still

TW: very brief mention of possible suicide

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hot

____________________

“Where are those daisies we collected from the last mission?” Tony asked you, eyes staying glued to the hologram in front of him.

“I left them on the quinjet. Fury said to wait for transportation until Shield confirms safety. It’s literally in a glass case, but whatever,” you rolled your eyes, making the older man laugh.

“Just protocol, kid,” he snickered.

Meanwhile Bucky sat with Steve eating lunch, chatting it up like old men do.

“So what did you bring back from the last mission? I saw a bunch of agents in hazmat suits,” Steve said sipping his coffee.

“Uh, well Thor said we should bring some plants back for research, but it seems like a bunch of normal lookin’ daisies,” Bucky shrugged.

“Y/n loves daisies,” Steve smirked.

“Ok?”

“And you love Y/n,” Steve teased.

“No I don’t-”

“Hey boys!” you skipped past the kitchen.

“Y/n,” Bucky said standing up with a big goofy smile on his face.

“Where ‘ya going?” Steve asked with a chuckle.

“Quinjet. Fury gave us the go to start doing tests on that plant you brought the other day,” you smiled lightly jogging to the runway.

“Why don't you ask her on a date, Buck,” Steve nudged.

“Come on, she’s way too smart to go out with a dumbass like me,” Bucky joked.

“Seriously.”

“I don’t know. It’s been years since I’ve talked to another woman. It doesn’t come naturally anymore. Wha- what’s even the first I’d say to her?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m on the same boat with you. Just… Tell how nice she looks today when she comes back.”

“Really?” Bucky asked skeptically.

“Yeah, be nice to her.”

“I am nice to her.”

“I mean be extra nice. Flatter her,” Steve told him, “Go wait in the lab until she comes back and tell her she looks pretty today.”

“Isn’t Tony in the lab?” Bucky asked.

“Ha ha, yeah,” Steve teased, patting his back before leaving to his room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tony mumbled seeing Bucky waltzing in the room awkwardly.

“Nothing,” he mumbled back.

Tony dropped his hands and stared at Bucky with an unimpressed look on his face. Everyone but you knew about Barnes’ little boy crush on you but he’s never had the balls to say anything. You were close to Tony and seeing as though he doesn’t particularly like Bucky, he didn’t want you hanging around him. But you were an adult so of course you hung out with whoever you wanted.

He was sure you liked him back too which never ceased to make him roll his eyes.

You walked back from the quinjet with the glass container of daisies. You weren’t exactly a plant expert but it was apparent that these daisies were mutated seeing as though the pollen swirled around the flowers gracefully. It was beautiful but then again they might be extremely dangerous considering it was a Hydra experiment.

“Hey Y/n, off to the lab again?” Steve smiled.

“Yup, gotta check these babies out according to Thor; said they might be dangerous if they’re what he thinks they are,” you said, still walking.

“And what’s that?” you just shrugged at his question unsure of the answer yourself.

“Well, Bucky’s waiting for you in the lab,” he slipped in the conversation.

“Really? Why’s-” Crash!

“Oh no,” Tony mumbled, seeing the collision in action.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you stuttered.

“No, no. I should be sorry. Here let me help,” bucky knelt to the ground grabbed the fallen daisies with his bare hands.

“No! Don’t touch-” Tony shouted practically sprinting towards you two.

The golden pollen swirled in a misty manner engulfing Bucky completely. You stared with furrowed brows confused at the sight before you and what was going on. Bucky’s skin began to burn and his senses were being overloaded. All he could smell in that moment was you; the same scent that he got a whiff of this morning when he hugged you, the perfume and the shampoo that filled his senses when you walked passed him.

Tony pushed you out of the lab roughly throwing you in Steve’s arms who was just as confused.

“FRIDAY,” Tony called out.

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” the familiar voice answered.

“Lock all the doors to the lab and maybe turn on the a/c,” he commanded.

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

All the glass walls and doors instantly shut and locked, locking Bucky inside. Bucky’s eyes found your and slammed his body against the glass desperately trying to reach you. You too ran up to the glass wall trying to understand what had happened to him. Everything was happening so suddenly.

Your forehead was pressed against the glass as was Bucky’s; both of you staring into each other’s eyes momentarily. In that moment, you could see his eyes turn golden for a quick second before his pupils dilated ridiculously before your eyes.

“Is he going to be ok?” you turned away.

“Y/n! Please!” Bucky’s muffled screams shocked you.

“Uh… where’s Thor?” Tony panicked.

“What the hell is happening?” Nat asked; Sam, Wanda, and Vision trailing behind closely.

“Nat,” you ran to her.

“What happened to Bucky?” Same asked.

“He- I ran- I ran into him by a-accident and the box dropped. There was mist everywhere and Bucky's eyes. His eyes,” you stammered breathlessly.

“Please! I need her!” Bucky hit the glass in an attempt to break it.

“Oh my goodness,” Wanda gasped at the sweaty Bucky hitting and practically going feral.

“Oh god, is he gonna be ok?” you teared up. This is your fault, dammit.

“I can asure he will experience no physical harm,” Thor’s voice made all of you turn around.

“Just physically? What the hell does that mean?” Sam argued.

“Well, uh… I’ve never actually seen it’s effects in person. Especially not on a Midguardian…” his voice trailed off and his eyes grew big.

Nat snapped her head, eyes widening as well. Bucky with absolutely no shame held his hard dick in his hands pumping it with his eyes trained on you. You went to turn around seeing nat’s expression but she covered you eyes before you could actually see the lewd behavior Bucky indulged in.

“What’s happening?” you asked holding onto Nat as she led across the room.

“Nothing, they’re gonna take care of Buck. Don’t worry about it,” she said quickly.

You sat in your room bouncing your leg as the movie on your TV played. Every now and then Bucky would moan and cry particularly loud making all of you wince and cringe. But your mind felt foggy simply thinking about Bucky and his safety; especially that moment when his eyes went from confusion to you don’t even know what. Hunger? Desire? Lust?

Whatever it was, it made your tummy flutter.

“Steve, any news on Bucky?” Steve stood at the doorway with a worrisome face that did nothing to ease your already panicked nerves.

“Well, as far as Thor knows the plant that was mutated with the daisies was pollen extracted from a breeding plant common among other galaxies; for species that can’t… reproduce like we do. The pollen enters the system and targets the nociceptors causing excruciating pain without physical harm. If untreated the victim can reach a traumatic state and truthfully, they will do anything to stop the pain; even kill themselves.”

“What the hell does any of that mean?” Sam grunted.

“It means the tin man is painfully horny,” Tony interrupted.

“Are you fucking serious?” Sam said in disbelief.

“What’s the cure?” Nat said.

“Oxytocin, of course,” Tony said.

“The cuddle hormone,” you whispered.

“Yup. Banner and I are already working on a serum containing artificial oxytocin in hopes to minimize the pain or even better cure him completely. We-”

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit more complicated than that,” Thor interrupted Tony.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, see the pollen, it’s a little tricky. The oxyputin-thingy you mentioned…”

“Oxytocin,” Tony clarified but Thor didn’t care too much.

“I don't think artificial love is going to cure the boy. If you want results, he needs to be the one he desires most. That’s where you’ll get your oxy-pudding.”

“Oxy- You know what, we can figure this out without anyone needing to have sex,” Tony groaned.

“Tony, maybe we shouldn’t-” you started.

“Nope, we can do this. We’re science bros,” Tony stormed away like a child.

“Isn’t your lab being ‘occupied’,” Nat called out.

“Shit!”

-

Hours went by and the oxytocin experiments were clearly a fail. The first dose did nothing. The second also nothing. The third relieved him for only ten seconds before he went back to his painful state. Since then, they haven’t been able to help or relieve Bucky’s circumstance any longer.

You thought about Thor’s words, about how the one he desires most could cure him. A ping of jealousy struck your heart but you knew you to find the woman Bucky loved and just pray that she'd help him. You made your way back to the lad area where Tony and Bruce had their new makeshift set up while the lab was locked down.

“Tony, this is ridiculous. It’s been going on for too long. You heard what Thor said about what happens when it gets too much,” you begged.

“And what do you suggest we do?” Tony said angrily.

“We need to find the woman that Bucky loves so she can help him,” you argued back.

“It's not just some woman, Y/n! He wants you.”

“What?”

“All the bastard’s been doing for the past eight hours has been masterbating while moaning your name. I’m not putting you in that situation,” Tony yelled.

You couldn’t speak. Was he telling you the truth? Did Bucky want you like that? The same way you secretly wanted him? It’s not like you haven't thought about what being with Bucky would be like before. He was perfect; so handsome and charming.

You ran back to your room where the rest of the guys still were practically out of breath; your heart hammering out of your chest and your stomach fluttering like it does whenever you think about Bucky.

“I need to get to Bucky,” you panted out.

“What?”

“Please you guys need to help me. Tony said that Bucky wants me; I mean can you believe. A guy like him wanting me? I’m just… nobody. He’s way too out of my league and-”

“Y/n, focus,” Nat said.

“Right. I- I want to help him. I know I can.”

“Y/n, we don’t know how dangerous this is. I mean, it came from Hydra, this could be weaponized and you could get hurt,” Steve argued.

“Bucky could never hurt me,” you whispered; Nat looked at you softly, understanding the situation better realizing you were probably Bucky’s only chance of a cure.

“You’re not actually considering letting her do this are you?” Steve scolded Nat.

"Are Tony and Bruce making any progress?" she sighed.

"They haven't been to even relieve his pain for longer than ten seconds," you whispered.

"Steve, this is Bucky we're talking about. Hasn't he endure enough torture in his life?" Nat said softly.

That seemed to convince him. Seeing Bucky in so much pain like he had been only years ago was unfair, especially when they technically already knew a cure. Waiting this out was pure evil at this point.

"How do you suppose we go about this?" he asked.

You devised a plan in order to let Bucky from the lab; he'd find his way to you on his own. Wanda stood from afar using her powers to tamper with the equipment. Tony frustratingly would have to run across the compound to the conference rooms to grab new devices in order to continue with his notes and tests.

On his way back, Steve and his convincing and charming ways would stall Tony's return asking him all sorts of questions about Bucky's state. Meanwhile, Thor made up some excuse to lure Banner away just for a minute so Nat and Sam could override the lockdown through Friday and free Bucky.

All the while you sat in your room waiting anxiously for Bucky to barge through the door and have his way with you.

A few minutes went by and no sign of a ruckus you'd assume would accompany the escape plan. You fiddled with the hem of your skirt biting your lip in anticipation. Still no sign after a couple more minutes. Wanting to make sure you still looked alright for Buck, although he'd probably not even acknowledge your appearance, you stood up to walk to your bathroom.

Just as you stood up, Bucky in all his muscle and broad glory slammed the door behind him staring at you with nothing but desperate hunger. Your stomach flipped when you saw him lock the door, pushing a small chair you had just next to it in front of the door under the handle.

He stalked towards practically panting and you took in his appearance. His hair was quite disheveled and sweat lined his forehead and slightly down his neck. Despite that, he still looked so handsome and sexy.

"маленький, all dressed up for me to ruin," he growled crawling up the bed as you crawled back.

"Buck, are you ok? I want to help you," you whispered.

"I'm more than ok now, beautiful," he whispered leaning into you, his nose brushing against yours, chuckling when you visibly trembled.

"Is my красивый маленький ангел gonna let me use her?" he whispered, huskily.

"Bucky, I don't understand what you're saying."

"так драгоценно," he whispered against your lips before pressing himself completely against you.

His hands, contrast between hot and cold, crept under your shirt brushing lightly over your delicate skin. You had somewhat expected Bucky to have no control and use you relentlessly, of which you wouldn't have minded, but this soft ginger foreplay was really making your panties wet.

Bucky slowly lifted the shirt from your body before tossing it to the side and removing his own. His hands cupped your breasts squeezing the soft flesh quite roughly making you sigh and moan at the feeling.

His lips attached themselves to your neck biting and sucking harshly littering your skin with dark purple marks. He nibbled on your ear as he grinding his pelvis against yours, his large erection poking your center making you even more aroused.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. It smelled just like you," he whispered.

"T- The daisies?"

"I've been craving you, aching for you. Thinking about how good you're gonna feel wrapped around my cock," he panted speeding up his grinding thrusts.

"Buck," you breathed out.

Bucky shuddered over you before stilling for a moment. He couldn't help it, your scent, your warm skin pressed against his, he couldn't hold back anymore coming straight away in his pants.

You brushed his hair softly soothing him from his high. You thought it was over, that he felt better and was finally cured but almost instantly you felt Bucky harden under you, poking between your thighs and you gasped knowing very well it was going to be a long night.

Bucky stood on his knees and pulled your bottoms down your legs nearly ripping the material. He too rid his bottoms throwing them god knows where before climbing back on top of you. You stared adorably up at him and Bucky almost came again. He smiled softly at you before kissing you once more.

Suddenly, loud bangs on your door startled you but not Bucky.

"What the hell are you doing!" Tony screamed.

"Tony, you gotta stop! This is the only way! It's not fair to him to let him keep suffering. He's done enough of that, ok?" Nat shouted.

"She's gonna get hurt," Tony sighed.

"No she won't. This was her idea."

Tony looked back teary eyed. He really cared for you as his own and putting you in a situation like this wasn't fair to you either. He really tried to help but this was just too complicated and too advanced to solve in only a few hours. They were right, Bucky needed you as much as he didn't like that idea too much.

"Fine."

Bucky lined his cock with your entrance wrapping your legs around his waist. Slowly he pushed in pulling moans from you both. You've only had a couple lovers previous to Bucky but neither of them ever filled you so perfectly. Bucky stretched you out like none other and admittedly he wanted to use his fingers on you first but he'd been away for too long it was too painful to go another second without being inside you.

"So tight and warm, little one. Feel so fucking good wrapped around me."

"Buck," you moaned.

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him impossibly closer to you as you kissed along his neck and jaw. Bucky moaned breathlessly in your ear and you couldn't help the clenching around him from arousal.

"Fuck, keep doing that, little one," he groaned.

Toy squeezed your thighs together and clenched around him again making him groan louder this time. His thrusts became sporadic and you moved against like a ragdoll unable to keep up with his relentless pace.

Your legs began to shake and your back arched into his chest reaching you first high of the night, gushing all over his cock. You realize he hasn't come and gently push him off you before flipping over to let him take you again from behind.

As expected, Bucky pushed into once again deeper this time and you shuddered under his hand that rested atop your arched back. Bucky smacked and kneaded your ass thrusting in and out. The lewd squelching sound of his thrust mixed with the sound of skin slapping against each other echoed in the room.

"Shit, little one. Taking my cock so fucking well," he reached forward and bunch up your hair pulling your head back harshly.

“Shit,” you mumbled.

Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the sheets as hard as you could. You were approaching your orgasm quickly and you weren't going to be able to hold back any longer. Your pussy clenched around Bucky's cock making him throw his head back in pleasure.

"Please, Bucky," you whimpered.

"You wanna come, darling. You wanna cream all over daddy's cock?"

"Yes! Fuck!" your arms shook before giving out completely; your head buried in the sheets as Bucky continued that same wild and rough pace.

"Please let me come, daddy!"

Your body felt on fire. No one has ever made you feel this good before, it was almost too much, too overwhelming. Tears brimmed your eyes from trying to desperately hold back. You wanted to come with Bucky but seeing as his pace had yet to slow down you were beginning to think he wasn't even close.

"Let go, doll."

Your body squirmed beneath him as you released all over his dick. You came with a near shout, your body violently trembling from the intensity of your high. Bucky slowed his pace for your comfort, gently riding your orgasm slowly down despite his still aching erection.

He languidly rolled you over to your back, his hands softly rubbing your sides up to your breasts. You breathed heavily, eyes feeling droopy, all you could feel in that moment was his cum dripping from you onto the sheets.

Bucky, still knelt on the bed and still chasing his release, lifted your legs over his thighs gripping your hip with one hand and his cock with the other. You squeezed your thighs together when you felt his tip poking at your entrance once again, soft whimpers emitting from you shakily.

"Such a good girl. Gonna let me take you again? Gonna let me keep using you?" he moaned.

"Use me, Buck. I'm all yours," you breathed out.

Bucky pushed himself past your folds once again, your cum easily letting him slide in. Both his hands made home on your hips gripping hardly surely to leave marks for you to remember this very moment. You looked at Bucky as his thrusts slowly began to pick up, bringing your own hands to your breasts to play with your nipples. You twisted the perked buds, moaning softly at the feeling as well as Bucky filling you perfectly once again.

"Filling me up so good, baby," you moaned, arching your back slightly allowing Bucky to hit a newer and deeper angle inside you.

"Pussy was fucking made for me," he growled.

His hand moved from its home on your hip right over your lower belly where he could feel his cock so deep poking his own hand through your tummy.

"Feel how fucking deep I am?"

You moved your hand and he pressed yours in the same spot under his and you moaned loudly, shuddering under him.

His pace quickened and for a moment he thought he was going to finally reach his high, that release he'd been thinking about for hours today, but when he felt you clench again, squeezing his cock tightly and he didn't cum, he knew it was gonna be chase that he didn't know you'd be up for. You gushed all over his dick, back arching and your legs pressing tight around his torso, coming with a loud scream of his name.

Bucky fell forward with tears in his eyes. His skin still felt hot and sticky. His sense felt dialed up to an eleven. It was all so overwhelming and all he wanted was to cum in you and hold you closer whispering how he really loved you. He pressed faint kisses to you equally sticky and warm skin and when you felt warm liquid dripping onto your skin to lift Bucky's head to find him crying.

"What's wrong, baby?"

“I can’t cum. I just wanna cum,” he whined.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok. I can go as many times as you need me to. I want to help you, let me do that.”

“Can- Can you uh… use your mouth please? I want to feel those pretty lips wrapped around my cock so bad,” he moaned.

“Of course, baby. I’d do anything for you,” you smirked before pushing him and crawling over him holding his dick in your hand.

-

Hours and literally hours had passed until Bucky was finally tired out only having cum three times compared to the fifteen-plus times you had. Your bed laid on the ground; the wooden stands snapped about two hours ago. Most of your sheets were torn to shreds and marks littered your body from your neck down to your hips and your knees from, well you know.

Your body shook as you laid in a fetal position. You burned between your thighs; the soreness overwhelming but pleasant at the same time. Sweat made what was left of the sheets stick to your body until Bucky pulled them from you to clean you. He used a warm towel all over your body with tears in his eyes whispering how sorry he was about everything.

“I swear I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m so sorry. I understand if you hate me now; if you never want to see me again. Just know that I’m so sorry about your bed, the blankets, if I hurt you, everything,” he sniffled, eyes and nose red and puffy.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice raspy and croaky from your moaning and screaming all night.

“Y/n,” he whispered back. You pulled him by the back of his neck into a soft yet passionate kiss.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed out when you pulled away. You cupped his face with shaky hands but a smile on your face.

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I’ve dreamt about holding you far too many times, more than I’d like to admit. I should’ve told you sooner but like everyone else, I was scared you didn’t like me back; at least not this way,” he rubbed your legs indicating the intimate love he had for you.

“Buck, it’s virtually impossible for anyone not to fall in love with you. Unless they’re Tony,” you giggled as did he.

“Can you say it?” he asked softly.

“That I love you?” you smiled brushing your nose against his; Bucky practically purred as he nodded.

“I love you, James,” you whispered.

“Fuck, I love you too.”

He laid you down softly again on the broken bed pressing light kisses all over your collarbones and shoulders. You brushed his hair with your fingers as he clung onto you ready to sleep.

“Thank you again, doll. For helping me today,” he said after a couple minutes of silence.

“Of course, my love. Besides I’m the one who ran into you with those damn daisies.”

“Thank god for them then. And for your clumsiness,” Bucky chuckled.

“Meanie,” you snorted, making Bucky laugh even more.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Buck.”

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

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Bucky Barnes Taglist:

@stolenxkissess

[cas-kingdom]

Bb ubbe with “this would not happen if I had a penis!” and baby sister? I feel as though this would work perfectly for a daughter of Ragnar who wants to fight but is still held back by the views of men ✌🏻

This would not happen if I had a penis!

Ubbe had heard the sound of screaming before the slave girl found him. She had a panicked look about her and was breathless—from running or fright, he couldn’t tell, and he couldn’t quite find it in him to care. The moment a couple winded words escaped her, both concerningly akin to “Y/N” and “bleeding”, and the screaming seemed to suddenly become intermingled with the clash of metal against metal, he bolted.

It would not be the first time you had caught yourself in the throw of a fight. As a child, you’d been utterly innocent, devoid of any bone that might have leaned towards engaging in physical fights, and though a part of that still remained, you’d certainly grown since. He supposed you took after your brothers in that aspect of things. Mainly Ivar. Either way, in the past month or so, your… hm… aggression had seemed to skyrocket, and the sons of Ragnar had kept one consistent eye each on your whereabouts, clocking who you were with and where you were at all times. Luckily, there hadn’t been anything more than a scuffle for a while, though today, the day Hvitserk and Bjorn happened to be hunting in the woods and Ivar was in one of his moods, their luck seemed to have changed. Drastically.

Ubbe skidded around a corner, quickly taking in the sight before him. You had planned to fish alone today, he knew that, so why you were currently shouting obscenities with every strike of your sword at a boy he recognised as the harbour master’s son, he did not know. But that was not the most pressing of matters.

Steeling himself, he pushed his way through the small crowd that had gathered, barking at them to leave immediately, and withdrew his own sword from his belt. Taking long strides towards you, he stuck out his foot and tripped the unsuspecting boy—he took a hard tumble, but it was nothing compared to what he would have received if you managed to hit him—before leaping in front of him, blocking your sword with his own.

You stopped suddenly, wide flaming eyes blinking up at him as you registered the stern glare of your older brother.

“Calm yourself,” Ubbe instructed, eyes scanning you for any visible injury. “This is not—Y/N!”

It seemed you had either transformed into a rabid animal, or the boy on the ground behind him had done something worth serious retribution. Either way, you were intent on getting to him, if your suddenly clenched jaw and the way you jumped into action once again, pushing harshly against his weapon, had anything to say for it.          

It took him a moment to process it, unused to such disobedience from you, but when he did, it didn’t take him long to stop it completely. The one thing a person should keep in check while fighting is emotions, anger especially. That and the fact Ubbe had had a prominent hand in training you allowed him to easily whack your sword away, toss his own to the ground, and grab you in his arms in the space of two seconds.

You struggled against him, leading him to believe the rabid animal theory more, and once the surprise died down, he was quite impressed by your sheer strength. “Gods, Y/N,” he said once he’d successfully pinned your arms to your chest and swung a leg around your own to keep you still, “where has this come from?”

“This would not happen if I had a penis!” you yelled after further failed straining, finally stopping and letting your head fall back against him.

Ubbe’s brows rose quickly and involuntarily at that, and he glanced sharply to the boy still on the floor. He’d clearly said something to upset you.

“What would not happen?” he asked, directing his attention back to you.

“This—fighting!”

“And why is that? Hm? What happened to make you turn feral?”

You stiffened in his grasp, and he expertly turned his back on the boy.

“He said I could not fight as well as him,” you grit out. “He said women cannot fight as well as men. That my mother pales in comparison to the men—the proper warriors, he said—on the battlefield!”

Ubbe sighed. “Oh, sister,” he breathed out. Though the boy’s statements did not fall short in angering him, he knew a valuable lesson which still required imparting in you was that not every dispute needed to be solved with weaponry and—he narrowed his eyes at the boy, the hint of red on the white of his tunic sleeve catching his attention. Blood. Weaponry and blood.

“Go get cleaned up, boy,” he ordered, not at all kindly. “And though the lesson was taught wrongly, I expect you have learned it all the same.”

Oh, yes. The boy had learned it and more, he could tell, as he watched him stand to shaky legs, desperately nodding his head before turning on his heel and racing off.

Once he’d ran a fair distance, Ubbe released you, leaning to pick up both your swords as you pushed yourself away from him. He slid his sword back in its scabbard and lifted yours, peering at the sheen of blood running down the edge. He flicked his eyes to you, pointing the weapon towards where you stood. “We have taught you better than this,” he stated.

Words bubbled at your mouth and you curled your fists, but Ubbe shook his head. “Ah, ah. We have taught you better than this. Childish matters are not to be sorted in little battles whenever you see fit.”

You twisted your face in displeasure, the wind whipping your hair from the braid you’d tied it in that morning. “Women can fight just as well as men,” she grit out.

“Women can fight better than men, is my opinion,” Ubbe noted with a small smile, lowering the sword. He dug the tip into the soil of the ground and leaned on the handle, gazing knowingly at you opposite him. You’d relaxed your taut muscles the smallest bit at his assertion which, really, you’d already known.

He knew how protective you were over the shield-maidens. You mother was the famed Lagertha, after all; if any woman was a prime example of females and their ability to fight, it was her. Ubbe knew the majority of Vikings in battle stood proud next to the shield-maidens, but there were a select few, mainly young boys who had not been properly taught the importance of women, that did not respect them.

“What would Ivar say to this, hm?” he asked, prompting your answer with a direct nod.

You sniffed and crossed your arms over your chest, turning your eyes down to the ground. “Do not sink to their level,” you mumbled, slightly incoherently, and Ubbe made a noise of agreement. It was an ironic thing for his youngest brother to say, considering he never took that advice for himself. Also considering he’d already sunk far below their level, was something Sigurd had used to tease him about. He’d almost come away from that particular line with one less finger, once.

Ivar may not be the best of people, but he certainly was a good brother, at least to you. Though he didn’t always follow the so-called wisdom he gave to you, Ubbe knew it was his strange way of ensuring you were protected when he couldn’t protect you himself.

“Never sink to their level, do you hear? Strength is standing your ground. You show strength in not reacting. Let him embarrass himself. Let him be proved wrong.”

A slow smirk crossed Ubbe’s lips at your silent acceptance and he swung the sword around in his hand, extending it towards you. When you didn’t take it, keeping your head bowed and the toe of your boot scraping against the ground, he frowned lightly and dropped his hand.

“You are angry,” he said. “Not just today, but you... all of you. You’re always angry. Why are you so angry?” You didn’t answer, and he reached a hand out to ruffle your hair. You batted at his hand after a skilled moment of putting up with him despite the seriousness of his voice, and he brought his palm to the side of your face, pulling you to him where you did not fight. Your arms wrapped around him and your cheek rested against his chest, face looking absolutely miserable as you breathed out.

“Do you know? Hm, little sister?” Ubbe asked, pinching your chin a little to lift it. You yanked free and relaxed against him again.

“No,” you said quietly. “I just feel this way.”

Ubbe nodded, gently patting your cheek. “Alright, then. What do you say about releasing some of this anger in a better way?”

You glanced up at him. “How?”

“A little swordplay with your brother?” He grinned. “Minus the blood.”

You breathed a short laugh, and he counted that victory enough. Though the reason behind your pent-up irritation was currently lost to the both of you, past experience told Ubbe that there was nothing like a little playful fighting to both distract you, get your thoughts moving, and remind you how the shield-maidens fought.

“Okay,” you relented. Ubbe pressed a kiss to the top of your head and handed you your sword, watching you wipe the blood on the ground.

“I don’t have to apologise to the boy, do I?” you asked with a grimace, and Ubbe scoffed.

“Of course not. The boy is a stupid fool. Now, come and fight me, little princess.”

Vikings Masterpost

[bruhstories]

Yes, Daddy

summary: it's stepdaddy!zeke, there's no need for a summary xD pairing: stepfather!zeke x stepdaughter!reader warnings & content: stepcest, unprotected sex, fingering, spitting, lots of daddy mentions, oral sex (male receiving) word count: 1.5k

a/n: danger! this is very self-indulgent, i'm so sorry

You couldn't understand why your mother wanted to get married after your father left. The two of you were perfectly fine just by yourselves. She kept yapping about how a man could offer you stability and security, but you knew better — you knew your mom just wanted to get laid, and since she was almost 50, no one sane man of her age would marry her. She looked good for her age, so it was no surprise when she finally brought home her boyfriend. What was surprising was that Zeke was twenty years younger than your mother. Hell, you were closer to his age than her — he was only nine years older than you. But you could completely understand why she fell in love with him. The man was handsome, extremely intelligent, charming and, most importantly, rich. And for some stupid reason, Zeke was dating your mother, a reason you didn't figure out yet.

Then the wedding happened, and your mother was the happiest she'd ever been. You helped pick her dress, organised the whole damn thing to the smallest detail, even tasted the cake. You were going to move out eventually, and decided your mother would feel better if she had someone around her, so you tried to be nice to your new father. Besides, after Zeke moved in with you, you found out he was a pretty cool guy. So cool, that you began to fantasise about him, touching yourself when you heard him fuck your mom through the thin walls that separated your rooms.

You can't sleep. You toss and turn in your bed, you're either too hot, too cold, too tired or too full of energy.

"Fuck." You breathe out, pushing the blanket off of you. Perhaps a glass of milk will help, and so you go downstairs, dressed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of knee socks. You don't expect Zeke to still be awake after the way he the bed screeched an hour ago, yet there he is, watching some documentary about monkeys.

"Can't sleep either?" You walk into the living room and he glances at you, not so subtly admiring your thighs. Maybe you should've put on some panties.

"No. I can't get used to the mattress."

"Huh." You shrug, making your way to the kitchen. "Want some milk?"

"Yes, please." Zeke nods, not taking his eyes off of you. You don't turn the lights on, you know your house like the palm of your hand, and open the fridge, bending down for the jug. The shirt isn't long enough to cover your body once you've bent, and you know that. You count on that.

"Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all."

You hand him the glass of milk before plopping on the couch, thighs exposed to the viewing pleasure of your stepfather. Neither of you is paying any attention to the TV, but you both pretend to be immersed in the documentary. Until you become adventurous and rest your hand on his knee. He doesn't flinch.

"You've got some milk..." Zeke points at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh? Did I get it off?"

"No. Here, let me." He wipes the drop with his index finger. Swiftly, before he can remove his hand, you poke your tongue out, giving his finger a slow lick. He's frozen, and you take advantage of this to suck on his index, not breaking eye contact for one second.

"Thanks." You flash him a smile after removing his finger out of your mouth with a pop. You're threading on thin ice, and it's about to crack by the looks of his growing bulge.

"Do you think it's appropriate for you to suck on your stepfather's fingers like that?" Zeke's condescending tone makes you squeeze your thighs together, and he leans closer to you.

"You could've removed them from my mouth, daddy." Your hand travels from his shoulder to his chest. "Makes me think you liked it. That's not very appropriate either, is it?"

"Why, you little... slut." His calloused fingertips graze over your collarbone before snaking around your throat. You whimper at the tightness of the grip, a smile creeping on your lips. "Shh, you wouldn't want your mother to wake up, would you?" You shake your head, half-lidded eyes watching his every move. Zeke releases your throat and you already lifted your shirt. "So eager to please."

"Mmm, I wanna please you, daddy. Wanna make you feel good." Your hand is desperately trying to pull his cock out but Zeke has you pinned to the couch by your shoulders.

"Bet you've got a tight cunt." He licks his lips, imagining how you'd clench around his throbbing dick. "Bet you're also soaked."

"Why don't you see for yourself?" You take him by surprise with a kiss that's so wrong, but that feels so right. Zeke kisses you back, tongue exploring your mouth like it's uncharted territory while his hand snakes between your thighs. You're not fighting him by any means, no. In fact, you spread your legs so he can have all the access he wants, seemingly satisfied by your actions. And he's right, you're dripping for him.

"Am I wet enough for you, daddy? Bet that old hag is so dry." You don't know what possesses you to say those things, you never hated your mother. But Zeke just has that effect over you and you can't even think anymore.

"Now, now," he shoves two fingers between your folds and you throw your head back, "that's no way to speak about your mother."

"Oh, p-please, as if you give a shit about h-her!"

"Hmm, it's true. I wanted to break up with her until I met you. And I knew I had to make you mine." Zeke adds another finger, curling them up to hit your sweet spot. "I'm glad you're not as stupid as your mother."

"Shit, fuck me, please! Wanna feel your cock inside me, daddy!"

"Needy whore. Do you beg other boys like this?"

"N-no, just you! Only you!"

"Good, because starting today, you're not allowed to see other men. Not after I fuck you."

Finally, you think, finally he wants you. You bite on your lower lip when he spits on his cock, the glistening tip pushing at your entrance as you squirm and whimper. Zeke is by far the biggest man to fuck you, and you're sure you'll be sore tomorrow. Inch by inch, he bottoms out, filling a whole no one could have filled. Manicured fingernails dig into his shoulders for support because the man is so feral and aggressive, you feel the couch sliding back with every thrust. And your face — it's a sight for sore eyes, the way your lips form an O when he fucks into you, the way your eyes roll when his cock grazes over your cervix. He drinks you in, that's a fact.

"Fuck, you're sotight." Zeke grabs your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks. "Open that filthy mouth."

You obey, thinking he might kiss you, but the man merely spits into your mouth and you clench your spongy walls around his cock, swallowing before he can tell you to do it.

"Good slut." He praises you and you feel your cheeks burning, chanting his name like a prayer. "As much as I love you mewling like a bitch in heat," Zeke shoves three fingers in your mouth, "I need you to shut the fuck up."

You nod, eyes filled with lust and desire as he fucks into your poor cunt. The harder he thrusts, the more you want him, and so you buck your hips, earning a low growl from your stepfather.

"That's right, take it like the whore you are."

You want to ride him, want to scream his name, but you can't, not with your mother upstairs, but at this point, you don't even care if she hears you — all you want is the sweet release of your orgasm that's been building up for some time now. Zeke can feel your need by the way you pant and arch your back, and he decides to let you have it.

"Be a good girl and rub that clit for daddy, yeah?"

You don't waste any more time and do as you're told, frantically touching yourself, clenching your muscles before relaxing them with muffled moans. He seems satisfied by your little performance, slowly pulling his throbbing cock out of your sore, soppy cunt.

"You gonna suck and swallow, love?" He removes his fingers from your mouth, coated in your saliva, drool dripping down your chin.

"Yes, yes, yes!" You answer him eagerly, tentatively falling to your knees and without a warning, you take him into your mouth.

It doesn't take much to make Zeke come — with hollowed cheeks, you bob your head up and down, back and forth, palming his balls and swirling your tongue around his cock and he's putty in your hands. When he's close, he holds your head back so that you don't miss a single drop of his cum and, like the good stepdaughter you are, you swallow the entire load with a smile on your pretty face. Zeke mockingly pats your head and you look at him with glossy eyes.

"Same time, tomorrow?"

"Yes, daddy."