#gold plated wrist watches

[kaashusa1]

Explore the Top Types of Fashion Watches That Never Go Out of Style

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[revelboo]

Feel free to ignore this, but I just thought it would be a funny scenario/match because of just How Much™️ it is:

🌶️Megatron x Reader x Predaking🌶️

🤣 R.I.P. those holes ✌️

😂 that poor human somehow has both scary dogs? Predaking is at least civilized, unlike Megs. 🔞 mass displaced mechs 🌶️

Scenario-Bargaining chip

TFP Megatron x Reader, Predaking x Reader

• How’d you get in this situation? Had never imagined that just talking to the big, lonely, alien dragon could backfire so badly. Frowning up at Megatron, you wonder exactly how much of that glowing purple stuff he’s snorted to decide this was a good idea. And he’s hooking a clawed servo in your harness to tug you stumbling closer. Know you should probably say something, put a stop to whatever this is, but when you glance at Predaking, there’s a vulnerable hunger in his stare that keeps you from protesting. Realizing you want him.

• Grinning crookedly at your indignant frown, he grips your shoulders and turns you. To face the mass displaced predacon before shoving your robe off your shoulders to make you gasp and he has to grab your wrists to keep you from grabbing for it. ��Think of it as a perk for your loyalty to the cause, if you will,” Megatron says, meeting Predaking’s optics over the top of your head. And for all your annoyance, he’s seen how relaxed you are with the bigger mech. More at ease with Predaking than him even if he hates it. “My pet likes you well enough.”

• “Your pet,” Predaking growls in offense, optics narrowing. Hating that the warlord views you as a toy to be passed around. It’s dishonorable, a slight against you. But as you look up at him, he can’t deny he wants you, that he’s tempted to steal you as his. To protect you and treat you like should be. “Give the human to me if you want my loyalty.” And Megatron laughs, servos tangling in the leash at your throat, his palm landing on your hip. ‘Not an option,’ the warlord growls, tone firm before his hand slides lower to stroke you.

• Grabbing onto his wrist as he presses a servo inside you sending you up onto tiptoes with a gasp. Playing with you while Predaking watches. And those gold optics never look away as your body heats. Hear yourself whimpering “please” and you don’t know if you’re asking Megatron to stop or for Predaking to touch you.

• Aware of the fact that the other mech is bigger than he is when he’s used to towering over his followers, he curls his other hand around your neck, encouraging you to lay your head back against his shoulder. To relax into him. Just because he’s willing to offer you as a treat to ensure Predaking’s loyalty, doesn’t mean he’s willing to give you up. You’re his. Cheek brushing yours, he smiles as Predaking’s attention dips to his servo lazily stroking inside you. “You don’t mind, do you, Pet?”

• A growl rumbling from him, Predaking’s spike stirs behind his plating hearing those soft, needy noises you’re making and seeing how slick Megatron’s servo is as it slips free of you. Wanting, but hating that you’re being used as a pawn to win him over.

• Face reddening as you meet Predaking’s optics, you tremble. “I don’t mind,” you manage, embarrassed and aroused. Because Predaking is everything Megatron isn’t. Chivalrous, kind, and honest. And his growl roughens as Predaking strides closer, looming over you and Megatron both. A hand lifting and stopping just shy of cupping your cheek. A question in his expression and you lean your face into his big palm. ‘I accept,’ he growls. You feel Megatron press his mouth against your neck, before pushing you forward to stumble into Predaking.

• Smirking when you glare back at him, Megatron’s amusement falters when Predaking tips your chin his way, hooking his other arm around you to hoist you up against his chassis. And it’s almost too intimate when the bigger mech leans his head against yours. Lips brushing your cheek as you loop your arms around his neck. This was his idea, but he suddenly hates it, hates someone else touching you.

• Cupping your face, Predaking’s mouth slides against yours as he kneels with you. Aware of the warmth of you in his arms, the beat of your heart. And he’s laying you down, knowing how much of a risk he’s taking just to have this moment. That if Megatron plans to betray him, it’ll be now when he’s distracted. Vulnerable. “Are you sure?” He asks and you kiss him. Freeing his spike, he cups you, servos carefully exploring as his mouth slides against your neck. Finds you slicker than he expected and he grips his spike guiding himself to you. Groaning at how tight you are as he sinks deep.

• Arching when he sheaths himself, stretching you with a slight burn so you feel every ridge of his spike, and you hang onto him as he begins moving. Hips pumping lazily. Unhurriedly claiming you as his optics never leave your eyes. And it’s completely different than Megatron’s urgent, rough dominance. Losing yourself to the drive of his hips, the heat of his mouth, and the rumbling sound of his venting.

• Freeing his own spike and gripping himself, Megatron watches you writhe under the bigger mech. Listening to those sounds you’re making for Predaking and jealousy twists through him. That you might prefer the predacon over him. And you’re arching on a cry, the other mech’s thrusts becoming more urgent, before he groans and shudders against you. Overloading inside you. Then brushing his cheek against yours, whispering to you. Making Megatron painfully aware of how addictive you are. That this might have been a mistake.

• Reluctantly slipping free of your slick heat, he brushes his mouth against your temple. And stiffens when Megatron shoulders past him, bumping him. “Such a good, pet,” he snarls, kneeling and flipping you onto your belly. Tensing as the warlord sheaths his spike inside you, rutting against you rough and fast. Making that urge to steal you grow even stronger. To treat you like a treasure to protect.

[xichilie]

Imagine THIS for Mydei’s secret friend fic

Mydei and his friend are full on sparring at the training grounds, and phainon witnesses it. He would be shocked but also admire her for her strength, and how she keeps up with mydeis relentless blows and even managed to match his blows with her own, he definitely Wana spar with her too

Omg yes, phainon would be like 😲

Mydei x (fem)reader

The sun blazed overhead, casting long shadows over the training grounds. The air thrummed with anticipation, the rhythmic clash of metal against metal echoing across the vast space. Phainon had come to check in on Mydei, but what he stumbled upon instead left him frozen in place, eyes widening in astonishment.

Mydei and Y/N were locked in a brutal, dazzling spar.

Mydei lunged first, his armored fists gleaming under the sunlight, golden plates covering his forearms and knuckles. With each strike, a pulse of crimson energy crackled from his blows, sending shockwaves through the ground. Y/N barely dodged, rolling to the side before pivoting on her heel, bringing her greatsword up in a sharp arc to counter.

The sheer force of their attacks sent bursts of dust into the air, the heat from Y/N’s flames mingling with the intensity of Mydei’s crimson crystals. Sparks flew as their powers clashed, the training ground bathed in a flickering dance of red and gold.

Phainon gawked.

Y/N matched Mydei’s relentless aggression, blocking his punches with precise movements, her greatsword a barrier of unyielding strength. She wasn’t just defending—she was striking back with just as much force. Every swing of her weapon ignited the air, leaving streaks of fire in her wake, the heat distorting the space around them.

Mydei smirked, eyes gleaming with something akin to respect. He rarely found opponents who could withstand his unrelenting onslaught, yet here she was—meeting him head-on, undeterred.

Y/N stepped forward, shifting her stance before slamming her blade into the ground, sending a shockwave of flames racing toward him. Mydei didn’t falter. Instead, he lifted a fist, crimson energy surging around him before he punched the ground in retaliation. A web of jagged, crimson crystals erupted, shattering the incoming firewave in a brilliant explosion of color and force.

The sheer impact forced both combatants to skid backward, their feet digging into the dirt. Mydei wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, but his grin remained. “Not bad.”

Y/N smirked back. “You’re not bad yourself.”

Phainon, still spectating, crossed his arms and let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Not willing to let up, Mydei shifted his weight and launched himself at Y/N with blistering speed. His fist, encased in golden armor, arced through the air like a comet. Y/N barely had time to raise her sword in defense. The impact rang out like thunder, the sheer force of it pushing her back several feet, her boots digging trenches into the dirt.

But she recovered fast. With a flick of her wrist, the greatsword became wreathed in flames, its edges glowing white-hot. She dashed forward, her weapon a fiery blur as she swung in a rapid series of strikes. Mydei blocked with his forearms, the clash sending sparks flying as crimson energy flared against fire.

Y/N pivoted low, aiming a sweeping strike at Mydei’s legs, but he leaped over it, twisting mid-air. With a powerful downward punch, he sent a crimson crystal spike erupting from the ground beneath her. Y/N reacted instantly, slamming her greatsword down, splitting the jagged crystal in half as flames burst outward in a violent explosion.

Mydei landed, rolling with the force before coming up in a crouch. The air between them shimmered with heat and energy, both warriors breathing heavily yet grinning.

Phainon gawked. He had never seen anyone keep up with Mydei like this—besides himself. And now, watching Y/N hold her own, power and precision in perfect harmony, something ignited within him.

“I definitely wanna spar with her next,” he muttered to himself, eyes gleaming with excitement.

Mydei and Y/N exchanged a brief glance, as if silently acknowledging the intensity of their duel. Then, without a word, they surged at each other once more, their battle a perfect blend of raw power, agility, and skill.

Phainon watched, captivated, knowing he had just witnessed something truly rare—Mydei had found an equal.

The battle raged on, their movements growing more fluid, a dance of raw strength and expert precision. But as time dragged on, Y/N’s stamina began to wane. Her swings became slower, her footwork less precise. Sweat dripped from her brow, and her breath came in ragged gasps. Mydei, however, remained as relentless as ever, his attacks unyielding, his pace unchanged.

A final, crushing blow from Mydei sent Y/N sprawling onto the dirt, her greatsword clattering from her grip. She lay there, chest rising and falling rapidly, utterly spent. The fight was over.

Phainon expected Mydei to simply stand over his fallen opponent, triumphant and indifferent as usual. But to his astonishment, Mydei stepped forward, his expression softening ever so slightly. Without a word, he reached down and extended a hand to Y/N.

Y/N blinked in surprise before grasping his hand. Mydei pulled her up with ease, steadying her when she swayed slightly on her feet. He didn’t let go immediately, his grip firm yet careful, his golden-armored fingers wrapped securely around hers.

“You alright?” His voice was gruff, but there was an undertone of concern that caught Phainon completely off guard.

Y/N gave a breathless chuckle, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her free hand. “Yeah... just exhausted.”

Mydei nodded, releasing her hand only after he was sure she had regained her balance. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned away, crossing his arms over his chest.

Phainon, still standing off to the side, watched with his mouth slightly open in shock. He never thought he’d see Mydei act so... considerate.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. He had seen Mydei defeat countless opponents, leaving them in the dust without a second glance. And yet, here he was, checking on Y/N, ensuring she was okay.

Phainon ran a hand through his hair, still processing what he had just witnessed. “What the hell is going on?” he murmured to himself, his disbelief only growing stronger by the second.

Meanwhile, Mydei shot Phainon a glare. “You got a problem?”

Phainon threw his hands up defensively. “Nope, nope. Just... taking it all in.” He smirked. “Guess even the mighty Mydei has a soft spot.”

Mydei scowled. “Shut up.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she stretched her sore limbs. “You two are something else.”

Phainon chuckled, eyes still dancing with amusement. “Oh, trust me, I know.”

[sassatoru]

DAD I’M FROM THE FUTURE

pairing. bruce wayne x daughter!reader

warnings. time travel shenanigans, canon typical violence

summary. reader is Bruce’s daughter from the future.

a/n. i was watching the batman trilogy last night and this came to me. doesn’t follow the dark knight timeline, gonna do a battinson one later.

You’d gotten yourself in quite the situation, messing around in Central City helping out the speedsters with their problems and then accidentally getting yourself thrown back in time. You landed somewhere familiar at least, Gotham City just.. older, less advanced.

From when you were younger, lucky for you the people of Gotham tried to mind their business, nobody spared a glance at the girl in a batsuit, dark purple and a gold orange. Despite the streets looking different the path wasn’t.

You worked your way across the rooftops, swiftly and agile. You made it to Wayne manor in a matter of minutes, going through an open window on the highest floor and creeping through the halls quietly and down to entrance of the cave.

Pressing the three notes on the piano in the centre of the room the hidden door behind the glass shelves swinging open, you step through into the old elevator, going down.

What you don’t know is that Bruce is already waiting for you down there, watching on the cameras. “Who is that?” He asks Alfred, who merely shrugs in response. “Not a clue, Master Bruce.”

The elevator hits the underground floor, before you twist to the side out of the way of a batarang coming your way. “What the hell?” You scowl, dodging when you’re lunged at, you move to hit back but are stopped by Bruce’s hand catching your wrist.

“Let go,” you mutter, he doesn’t budge. “Bruce!” You shout, the name foreign on your tongue.

You see his eyes widen behind the mask and he steps back, “how do you know my name?”

“Let go and I’ll explain.” You retort, his eyes scan your suit, hardened Kevlar plates on titanium-dipped tri-weave fibres, just like his suit.

“Fine,” he releases your wrist, crossing his arms and watching as you pull your mask off. “I’m from the future,” you say, “a future where you’re my dad.”

Alfred chokes on the tea he was drinking and Bruce shoots him a look. “You don’t believe me, i get it. No proof, but dad— Bruce you gotta believe me. Everything i know is because of you.”

Bruce stares, “why’d i take you in?”

He almost smiles at the look that flashes through your eyes, hope, care, pride. “You saved me, you saved all of us. We were like you, orphaned, well me and Dick at least. You didn’t want us to go down the same path as you did, so you taught us.”

Something about you reminded Bruce of himself, a version of him that was happy, younger. “Why’re you here?” He asks, hesitantly taking his mask off, you know better it’s a show of trust, he’s giving you a chance.

“You know Flash? I got mixed up helping out speedsters, got into a fight and thrown back in time. Not sure how long I’ll be here until they figure where in time I’m stuck.” You say, “but shouldn’t be too long.”

“Hm,” he hums gruffly, you don’t take offence to his lack of response, it’d be more concerning if he gave you actual words. Your eyes flicker to the array of screens behind you, case files on the desk, pictures of bodies. “The Riddler case?” You ask, Bruce raises a brow at you.

“You know about it?”

“I’m a little rusty on the details but i can help?” He doesn’t say no as he turns away, despite this not being your Bruce, you could still read him.

MEANWHILE

Barry grunts as he’s slammed into the wall, Bruce scowling down at him. “What do you mean you lost her?” Bruce hisses.

“I mean she’s gone, Bruce. Thrown through time,” Barry groans, breathily due to the way Bruce’s forearm is pressed to his neck.

“Bruce, cmon. We need him to get her back,” Dick, ever the voice of reason.

“We have other speedsters,” Bruce scoffs, his signature glare present. Despite wanting to break every bone is Barry’s body, Bruce lets him go. “How do we find her?”

“Thats easier, magic.” He hears from behind, Zatara.

“This isn’t a league mission,” Bruce mutters.

“But you need us,” Dick adds, Bruce doesn’t deny it, he’s not a speedster or a sorcerer. Dick takes his silence as a ‘good to go’, motioning for the rest of them to begin. “This is hers,” Dick says, handing Zatara a fluffy blanket with the Flash logo on the back.

Barry can’t help the little smile that crosses his lips, you’ve always been one of his biggest fans. he remembers the first time he met you, you were at least seven years old, and you just stared at him silently. eyes wide with adoration, and later you mentioned the Flash being your hero.

His smile drops when he sees the glare Bruce throws his way.

—

“So dad— Bruce, sorry man. Keep forgetting,” you grin sheepishly at the Batman, he doesn’t reply per usual.

“What’s the story here?”

“Nothing,” he replies dryly as you spin in his chair, he seems unamused but sighs and keeps his mouth shut, letting you enjoy the little things. Alfred steps in, setting a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk down on an empty spot on the table trashed with stacked up files and strewn papers.

“We’re not children—” Bruce complains before cutting himself off when you eagerly reach for a glass and a cookie, Bruce cracks an amused smile, before nodding a silent thanks to Alfred. The butler chuckles before making his leave.

“How long until I— your dad comes for you?” Bruce questions, with a raised brow, taking a glass for himself.

“Should be soon, you’ve probably got everyone busting their asses to get me home.”

Home. It’s a strange concept to him, that anyone else, let alone a dozen children think of his manor as a home, let alone him as one too.

“You’re a good dad, B.”

You pause for a moment before continuing, “i mean you have your moments of… less good dad moments but overall. You do great with us, you’re gonna doubt it a lot a times. But you gotta remember in the future you’re not alone anymore.”

He stays silent, “I’ve enjoyed this,” he admits.

“The idea of having a daughter, let alone more kids. I like it, I can see why i adopt all of you in the future, especially you. I know I’m doing right if you’ve turned out like this, you’re a good kid, and a great hero.”

You want to cry, you always do when you hear him praise you. But the moment is cut short when Barry is suddenly in the middle of the cave.

You shoot up, “Barry?”

“Kid!” The speedster grins, he’s at your side in less than a second. “You had me worried, i thought Bruce was gonna kill me— oh hi Bruce.”

Your father — past father? future father? — seems unimpressed, glaring at the man in red. A hole rips through the air, and through it you can see your father, current dad, you can see the worry in his eyes, the sight of his greying hair all too familiar, comforted by the sight of him.

Beside him you see Zatara in some soft of trance, you don’t question it as you rush forwards towards the portal to get to your dad. Before you can pass through you turn back around rushing back to past Bruce’s side.

Bruce’s arms wind around you when you topple in his arms, hugging him tightly, “thank you.” You whisper, your dad watches from the other side of the portal, his heart twisting, he knows how much this would mean to past Bruce.

“How do i find you?” Bruce asks softly, he holds you tightly, not wanting to let you go.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you.” You reply, pulling away. “I promise.”

He lets you go, with the promise that you’ll find each other. You’ll find your way home, you know that much. You’ll find your dad, whether he exists in whatever universe you’re in or not. You’ll always find Bruce Wayne, whether its his memory or a picture of him, whether he’s real or fake.

You and Barry make your way through the portal as it closes, past Bruce can see the relief in his future selfs eyes once you’re back with him.

Nobody sees how later that night your dad doesn’t leave your side, the fear of ever losing you settling in.

He’ll savour whatever moments he can get with you now.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[hermesserpent-stuff]

hey hey hey hey hey @honey-minded-hivemind remy meeting a tiny creed!

lost time au is getting a small start

“Did pa put you down here to-to to punish me?!? I havent been that bad… Im trying. The monster is trying.”

Tears start to fall from those golden pools and Remy finds his heart breaking. The kid looks maybe thirteen. Maybe younger. Hard to say with all the malnourishment. Remy slowly stretches and starts examining his own chains. He keeps his voice warm and clam.

“Non, he dont got no power over me. Plus if I be a workin’ for him, why he gonna lock me in chains too? Non. he dont like my peepers.”

The kid blinks and seems to be trying to see Remy’s eyes himself, a spark of curiosity there despite everything. Remy grins and winks at the kid.

“Mind if I shimmie over? It’d be easier to see my eyes if I get closer.”

Wide 20.83eyes watch him. 

“If pa… well if he didnt put you here to punish me… I shouldnt be talking to you.”

“Aw, wasnt askin’ for you to talk to me. Just if you minded if I got closer. You dont have to say yes.”

Remy states plainly. He starts fiddling with his cuffs again. He could blow up the hinges with a small spark but hes not sure what power lay in the new fushia that had taken over his sparks. He examines it sticking out his tongue and tilts is head. He could bobbyp\pin it. Less easy but, less likely to knock off a wrist.

“Yes.”

The reedy whisper comes out. And Remy nods and pushes himself as close as the chains let him. He leans forward so his eyes are easy to see. The kid’s mouth opens into a little ‘o’ and Remy can see some wickedly sharp teeth there. The kid slowly lifts a shaky hand, that Remy can now see is tipped with razor-sharp claws. He lowers his head just a little so the kid can touch his face easily. Kid is a mutant. Like Remy. and however Remy feels being stuck in the past… Remy knows he cannot let this stand. He had seen the plate of fangs that he now knows belonged to this little kid that is staring at Remy’s eyes, head tilting to get a better look. 

“You smell funny mister.”

“Remy aint no mister petit.”

Remy responds softly as the kid’s nose scrunches.

“Still smells funny.”

“Thats probably cause I make sparks sometimes.”

“Make sparks?”

The kid has a heavy curiosity that makes the gold eyes glitter. Remy grins and slowly raises a hand to the side. The hand leaves his face as the kid’s brows scrunch up tight. Remy lets one fushia spark slip out and pop. The kid grabs his hand and starts sniffing it over. The kid freezes as Remy adjusts how he is sitting. Eyes look up at him through a sheet of hair, fear echoing loudly from the kid. Remy gives a soft grin and looks away like he would for his cats when they were being flighty. Warm air passes over his fingers as he hears snuffling. His fingers are moved about and gently investigated.

[mountainofgoats]

Crawl Home to Her

(Or, Caitlyn and Vi gear up for battle.)

(Or or, this viewer felt robbed of a tender moment between them and decided to write it.)

TIME: Hours before the first shot is fired

LOCATION: Piltover's Council Chambers, lower levels, the Armory

Caitlyn walks into the armory to see Vi holding up and appraising the black and gold chest plate. Her face is screwed up with disgust, like it’s something particularly nasty she’d found under her boot.

“Not your style?” Caitlyn teases from the doorway.

Vi’s eyes dart up to Caitlyn’s and she pouts. “Hell no. Look at it.” She holds the offending chest plate an inch higher. “It’s bulkier than the gauntlets. How the fuck is anyone supposed to move in this?”

Her petulant tone pulls Caitlyn’s lips into a tiny smile. “Not a problem for most people. Though most people don’t move like you, do they?”

Vi smirks. “That’s right." She shrugs a shoulder. "One of a kind.”

Caitlyn moves closer as she speaks. Vi watches her, and the mirth in her eyes dims by degrees as she approaches.

A veneer, Caitlyn knows. A wall against the same nerves and dread that keeps the smile from truly spreading across her own face.

How many times has Vi had to put on a brave face? Stuff her own fear down so deep she hardly feels it for the sake of bolstering the people around her?

Caitlyn reaches out a hand, runs a fingertip lightly against the metal of the armor. “I suppose you don’t have to wear it if you think it will… slow you down,” she says. She stares at the armor. Swallows thickly. “But it’ll help if… I don’t want you to wish you had it if-“

Her voice dies in a rasp. She swallows, tries to dislodge the lump in her throat. Doesn’t work.

Vi’s hand lands gently on her wrist, giving a squeeze. She looks up, and Vi offers a fragile smile.

She hefts the armor a smidge higher. Soft as morning sunlight, she whispers, “Gonna help me out, cupcake?”

Caitlyn half laughs, half sobs, suddenly thrust back into a dark alley a lifetime ago, the smell of gunfire and blood thick in her nose. Back when her biggest problem was hauling an injured undercity menace through the depths of the fissures.

God, how young and stupid they were back then.

She takes the armor from Vi’s hands. So carefully, she guides Vi into it, tightens the leather around her shoulders. Vi watches her silently as she drifts her hands down to her sides, skims her fingers lightly over the wound under her tank top. Caitlyn breathes deep and lets her palm press on the spot, feels the bandages underneath cloth. She holds there, breathes out slow. She swallows, then cinches the leather into place.

She drifts to the other side. Her fingers drag softly against Vi’s waist as she goes. Vi’s eyes follow her as she tightens the other strap so her armor sits squarely and securely over her chest.

One more buckle sits at Vi’s back. Dragging her hands along Vi’s shoulders, Caitlyn moves until she’s standing behind her, so close her breath moves the hair on the back of Vi’s head. She tightens the leather, buckles it into place so it sits flush against Vi’s back. She brushes red hair away from Vi’s neck, skims her fingers over the gears sitting proud and stark against her skin.

A shudder cascades across those broad shoulders and down her back. Caitlyn leans in and presses a kiss, feather-light, against the back of Vi’s neck. She leans there, eyes closed, breathing, fighting the lump in her throat and the nearly animalistic urge to take Vi by the hand and run.

They can’t. Even if there was somewhere to go, anywhere safe, neither of them could live with that.

She breathes out, presses one more greedy kiss to the back of Vi’s head, and moves back to her front. Vi takes a step closer, her hands curling around Caitlyn’s waist as Caitlyn fusses with her shoulder straps. She knows they’re fine, they’re tight and straight and it will protect the precious heart beneath the metal.

Her hands linger anyway.

Vi lets her fuss for a moment, then callused fingers intertwine with Caitlyn’s and gently move her hands away from her shoulders. “Think you got it, hotshot,” Vi murmurs.

Caitlyn huffs wetly and nudges the tip of Vi’s boot with her own. “How would you know? You’ve never worn armor before.”

“I don’t. But we’ll miss the whole thing at this rate if you keep messing with it.”

Would that be so awful? Caitlyn doesn’t say it.

Vi looks at her like she knows though. All soft, sad blue eyes and a barely there squeeze of her fingers. “It’s your turn now,” she says. She lets go of Caitlyn’s hands to turn and grab another chest plate from the wall. Buckles clink and leather creaks as she holds it up, a silent plea in her eyes.

Caitlyn nods, and Vi repeats their slow dance from before- gently settling the metal over Caitlyn’s chest, tightening straps and making sure it all sits straight and true. She brushes light fingers over the skin of Caitlyn’s neck, over the fabric covering her sides and shoulders, anywhere not concealed by black metal.

She stands so close to Caitlyn’s back that she can barely maneuver the straps into the buckle properly. When she fumbles a second time and breathes a tiny huff of frustration against Caitlyn’s neck, Caitlyn chuckles softly. “Having trouble?”

VI’s hands pause for a split second. Then she’s poking Caitlyn’s lower back. “Shut up,” she breathes. Her voice is a warm rasp of amusement. Caitlyn’s eyes slip closed and she soaks it in, a starving plant suddenly thrust into the sunlight.

Vi finally slips the buckle into place and the armor sits sturdy across Caitlyn’s chest and shoulders. But Vi doesn’t move. She leans against Caitlyn’s back, her arms loop around her waist, and she pulls Caitlyn against her chest. Her face nuzzles into the crease of Caitlyn’s neck and shoulder, and she takes a long, slow breath.

Caitlyn grips Vi’s forearms and leans back into her. Vi’s armor digs uncomfortably into her back, but she can’t let go. Can’t bring herself to do anything but lean and hold on wish they could somehow fuse together. Stay warm and safe and surrounded by one another.

Fuck the plan, she wants to say. Fuck all of it. Please, we have to stay together. We’ll be fine if we just stay together.

We’re always better when we’re together.

“We’re gonna be fine.” The words are breathed against Caitlyn’s neck. Warm. Shaky. Almost too quiet to hear.

Almost like they weren’t even meant for Caitlyn at all.

Caitlyn turns in the circle of Vi’s arms. When Vi looks up at her, the raw desperation in her eyes nearly brings Caitlyn to her knees.

God, she wants to run. If only to chase that look off Vi’s face.

She cups Vi’s face, rubs her thumbs over her cheekbones, over the tattoo. She curls her fingers into the baby hairs on the back of her head. Vi leans into her touch, eyes fluttering, hands gripping onto her waist.

Caitlyn presses her forehead to Vi’s and closes her eyes. She sinks into her, breathes into her.

We’re meant to lose this fight.

She could never forgive herself if she comforted Vi with a lie right now.

She takes a deep breath and presses a long kiss to Vi’s forehead. A soft whimper chokes out of her and she clutches at Caitlyn’s waist.

“Please, Cait,” she whispers.

Caitlyn pulls back just enough to look at her. To brush away the tears running down her cheeks. She holds her and says the only thing she knows down to her bones to be true.

“I promise to do everything in my power to come back to you.” When Vi sucks in a ragged, wet breath, Caitlyn presses their foreheads together fiercely. “Vi, I promise. I promise.”

[gangplanksorenji]

Kinknuary Day 17: Brat Taming 

Pairing: Choi Yena x Male Reader

Word Count: 5,832

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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You can’t always get what she wants and she can’t always get what she needs—these two clauses never contradict as it's different in each way yet aimed towards the same intent: fulfillment.

Choi Yena is a girl you’d watch yourself into, as she’s the living definition of a brat, in your own words. Not really a specific brat, but she really tends to be selfish all of the time, and that isn’t really ideal considering how you’re always making her change but always ends up defeated and your advances deemed to be useless against her.

She has an iron wall that’s tough to break, but under specific circumstances, there’s always the Achilles’ heel to be used against it.

“Well, this sucks…” Yena chides boredom, sighing deeply as she’s deeply restive within the supposedly delicious food in front of the table and with her discontented countenance, you advance to confront her as you’re confused on why she’s acting like this.

“Don’t like the food, princess?”

“Nu-uh. It’s bland and soggy—look!” Yena grabs a minuscule sample of spaghetti with her fork, presenting how incredibly unacceptable it is on her own perspective as she voices out her frustration with it, and you, absolutely stunned with her complaints as you don’t see anything wrong with the food presented.

“Oh yeah, I forgot—should’ve treated you to eat some gold, huh?” You batted out a joke towards her, in which she took it a little seriously, punching your shoulder playfully as her pouts emanated such strong channels of chagrin, not satisfied with the meal she’s been supposedly enjoying.

“Yah! I’m not like that, but I’d like to eat something way better than this…”

Of course, she’ll be luring you into another set of her tricks, opting for you to fall down of her trap but with two years and a half of being with her, you knew exactly what she’s up to for you to fulfill her wants. You read her mind like a book but of course, you’ll choose to play along with her game to bait her and let her be the victim of her own medicine.

“Like what?” You feign such fake innocence, in which Yena takes as an opportunity to voice out her naughty desires and just like that, she stepped into your trap.

“Like daddy’s—” You tighten the grip of her wrists under the table, making her wince in pain as you stop her from her advances of such dirty talk in public.

“You know what Yena, just eat your goddamn food and we’ll get out of here, okay?” You grew impatient with her own antics, making her opt to the possible endgame before the anticipated climax soon.

“But I don’t like it! I don’t like it!” Yena whimpered as she didn't like the words that came out of your mouth and knowing that you’re setting her up to further make her miserable, she stepped up and voiced out her frustrations towards you and you’re not absolutely having it. “I won’t bother finishing these—”

“Alright then, Yena…” You averted your attention onto finishing the food on your plate as your demeanor became stern and commanding and Yena’s face suddenly feigned fear and anxiety, not wanting what may happen next. “It’s just fair to not reward my princess something if she didn’t finish her food.”

Yes, you read her like a goddamn book and guess what, it’s working more than well. Knowing how insatiable you are for her that can’t bear to not be rewarded with your load for a day says a lot, and she’s willing to do everything just to get that desired prize of hers that you would love to use as an advantage against her—Yena’s kryptonite that will flick a switch inside her, making her reevaluate her own selfish decisions.

“Okay then, daddy…”

Well, if she’s willing to provoke the sleeping beast inside you, then you’ll let her, because at the end of the day, you know that she’ll regret it and will absolutely be damned to be punished and used, like the slutty brat she always became, all for you.

---

Royalties and class, two things that exude Yena as every movement of hers is either sophisticated, intense disgust or her own primal needs taking over her. Limited choices yet it doesn’t matter, because it will revolved around that and it will never change—maybe when you’ve fucked something out of her, then maybe the stars will re-align but chances would be slim to none.

There’s no fucking chance in this planet she’ll be able to make others bear her bitchy, bratty attitude and you are the only worthy to handle her as you know exactly how to make her be yours and to tame that living beast inside her, even if it means to do the nastiest things to her.

Well, that won’t be the case for now but knowing how she’s luring you into a challenge, really makes everything inside you be in that state of fury as her words captivate you and turn you on, and it’s damn dangerous to be this riled while driving on a high-speed highway.

Guess the feelings are mutual between the both of you; she can pick the locks inside you as much as you can with hers, and it’s not even close to exert much effort.

“Yena, you know we can’t—not here, princess, alright?” You peacefully pointed out how risky and not suitable for you to really do this, let alone doing such a sinful act on a highway even though it’s just the both of you that will be blessed by the sight.

Not really surprised about her responsive actions of your denial, and you’d love to see that knowing how her frustration and the needy sounds she makes sends you into a state of delight. “Come on, daddy! You’re no fun!”

Yena pouts as she faces you, frustrated with your own selfish acts of your definition of fun as she crosses her arms right after, letting you know how she seriously wants this.

“If you want us to crash because of your selfish needs to blow my dick, then sure, Yena.” With your encouraging words with sarcasm laced on it, Yena faced you with a glare as you can see it evident on your peripherals. As much as you don’t want to, you might just give it a shot and to maybe even risk your life in terms of a pleasurable service and to literally just make Yena shut up with your own length inside her bratty mouth.

“You’re just playing with me, daddy—I know you—”

“Do you want to blow my dick or not? ‘Cause I’m getting pretty impatient, Yena.” You stated, your tone demanding and laced with subtle rage as you continue to drive, unfazed with her own presence that will soon draw onto your own treasured prize and given the green light, she acted up immediately and didn’t waste any of your time. Drawing her attention towards your clothed nether region, her hands then hastily finds its way onto the button of your pants while carefully not hitting anything, and with her subtle touch makes you lose a hint of focus yet you fight it as the last thing you would want to see is crashing on a highway. Carefully unbuttoning your pants and bringing them onto your knees, her eyes lit up in excitement as she can see your member getting erected and that’s all because of her.

“Ooh, getting turned on I see, hm, daddy?” Yena delightfully mocks you as steam comes out of your nose, a bit annoyed with her current antics as there’s no in any planet you would deny how it’s not her fault that you’re getting this hard.

“Then do something about it and don’t kill us, Yena.” She then resumes her advances of undressing your final clothed defense, finally freeing your throbbing length from its prison and she is met with your member, her eyes now lit in awe yet a click of your tongue makes her stop. “Five minutes only.”

Yena whimpers as she looks at you deeply with her signature duck pout, making you rethink your decision as she persuades you with all her might. “Please, can it be longer, daddy? Please, please?”

Even if she bats out her hundred of pleas you will just ignore it as a brat doesn't deserve such reward—she should be grateful instead of complaining but you know that girls like her will be rewarded truly if they earned it, and this is probably just one of the few tests you have in plan.

Guess, you’ll be just the judge while your mind’s focused on driving straight for the both of you to not crash and god, you’re really fighting for it.

Maybe you’ll be the one who’s going to be tested as it’s all deteriorating once she laid her soft lips onto the head of your shaft, as you give in the pleasure yet focus on the highway.

Five minutes—five goddamn minutes.

---

“Kneel down, princess.”

“Yes, daddy…” Yena immediately obliged your command as her face anticipates what you may have in store, her eyes glistening with need and lust that no one can define, maybe not even herself can.

Of course, she won’t be leaving your place without a load dumped inside her or painted on her because of how addicted she is to you and how she’s always a victim of indulging towards her primal desires the second you’re within the vicinity of her sight.

She’s crazy about you as much as you are towards her but Yena’s just on a whole new level—way above the charts of your expectations and it’s not really surprising at this point.

In most terms, she’s always been a pain in the ass the deal with, even with your entire length plunged inside her, she can’t seem to really change her bratty demeanor, like it’s glued onto her by default and it’s bittersweet—bitter in annoyance and sweet because you love taming her, getting the absolute value of each others’ needs.

Even without serving her desired prize on her speedway blowjob earlier, her eyes are still refulgent with anticipation and eagerness—not to mention how she complains so much when her time is up and without a load deep down her throat, completely opposing her current needs for you.

“You better finish what you’ve started earlier alright, princess?” You relax onto the cold, marble wall as Yena nods eagerly, and then advance her way onto your fully-erect length as she eyes it like her favorite meal and with a mischievous smirk planted onto her mouth and her evil eyes, you know exactly how she’ll start this off. You moaned almost inaudibly once her soft, plump lips became in contact with your swollen head and right from the start, her masterclass is absolutely at its peak finest.

Her mouth is one of your treasure features of her, not just by the fact that you could embrace yourself to initiate such a torrid kiss with her but it’s just the fact on how soft they are that it’s just sculpted perfectly to service gratification to you, not even including her sinful gags and the vacuum-like suction that makes up the elements of a mind-boggling blowjob that she always excels at.

Speaking of oral talents, she has it all, and maybe even multiple.

“Keep doing that, princess… Keep t-that mouth all the way in.” Even if it spirals out of control, you’ll be cursed to encourage her ultimately as she takes your whole length slowly, ensuing a leisure bobbing that aims to build up the pleasure and your own libido. 

She didn’t gag, not yet, as she continues to reach new depths, making herself accustomed to your whole length and the inevitable snaps, gagging prematurely as she tried to keep it in without pulling out but was not deemed successful, coughing a little right after her former struggles.

She wouldn’t let herself disappoint you as she grabbed your already saliva-sheathed cock as fast as she could and directed it inside her mouth, blowing you rapidly as her thrusts in quick succession never fails to set yourself on a blissful trance. Her hands find themselves onto the porcelain skin of your thighs, caressing it to voice out how comfortable she is and the other, fondling your sensitive balls in order for better stimulation and better quality of pleasure. Simultaneous gags, drool seeping out of her mouth, tears running down her cheek and her rapid pace lives up tot eh epitome of a blowjob—and she’s cursed to be great at this.cheek and the cherry on top, her rapid pace that adds up to the filthiness of a sinful image she’s been into and god, if you could just take a picture of this, let along record this as a video, you’ll absolutely do it but getting occupied by Yena’s soft lips and tight throat would be just better than anything that can bother you in this world, and you leave it as it is.

Her head frantically bobs like she’s set to hypnotize you as her techniques really live up to her title, every movement she does to stimulate you is making you feel way better than the previous, and it’s really working more than well. She constantly slurps as more drool seeps out of her hungry mouth, also a way to voice out her utter satisfaction with being rewarded with an insatiable candy that she can’t get enough of. Because of her great work between your legs, you dive into the inevitable bliss as your hands find their way to her vibrantly pink locks, grabbing a fistful of it to form a makeshift ponytail in order for you to have such strong leverage to guide her and fight for the utmost gratification.

Of course, she knows what you’ll end up into once she felt your hands on the back of her constantly bobbing head: she could only anticipate it as you hips will gradually thrust into her suffocatingly tight throat, craving for more to the point that you’ll give in and fuck her face rapidly.

She knows you and reads you like a book—again, feelings are mutual, as well as your needs towards each other.

There’s no point in not giving in to using her mouth like a fleshlight, because it’s literally what she’s built for: to take the entirety of your length to the point of no-return and absolutely giving everything you want—what your hips can muster.

“I might need to fuck that bratty mouth of yours princess, you wouldn’t mind it, won’t you?” Your sinister tone makes her apprehensive yet nonetheless, she trusts you with all her might—and you won’t dare to break that—as she nods eagerly, her eyes begging for the absence of your mercy in order to use her mouth with what might you can as she wants it badly. 

“Oh, so you want it this badly, huh?” With her slow bobs, you groan with the pleasure she’s giving yet time wouldn’t be wasted as you grip her hair and make her look up at you, your tone now laced with the utter need of voicing out her primal desires. “Then say how badly you want this, princess”

With more greedy bobs onto your rock-hard shaft, she immediately pulls out as so, and let her lips release such wanton profanities that absolutely will arouse the living beast inside of you. “I w-want you to ram on m-my slutty throat, daddy—”

“How hard, princess?” It was a sudden response, aiming to mutter up an answer escaping her lips on her possible wants of your treatment towards hers.

“Want you t-to fuck my throat like h-how I deserve it…” She trembles between divisible of her own lustful words, the utter nervousness and adrenaline kicking in as she continues stating her needs. “Want t-to feel daddy’s c-cock ramming on my t-throat because of how m-much of a slut I am.”

Good thing she knows what she is and what she came to, at this moment. Given on how sincere she is in every word she says as her tone really pleads you to service her throat, states on how she badly desires her close-to-an-ultimate prize (punishment on you own perspective) and without wasting any second, you opted to give her what she wants and to full indulge to your own carnal desires.

“Okay, princess, hands behind your back—” You command her as you grow impatient with her lustful talks, wanting to make her struggle in the best way possible—also, you would not want to hurt her in the process—and to build up the rising climax of her anticipation. “—and your head up.” Of course, your hands aren’t idle enough to just appreciate the beauty of her waiting to be ruined, as you hands force its way onto the back of her head again yet this time, you grip onto her semi-disheveled pigtails, wanting to use them as handlebars and a leverage on what you're about to do to her—maybe she purposely tied her hair this way, knowing that she’ll maybe get her mouth fucked half open.

If this is what she wants, then she’ll get it but you should let her know why this all started: it’s all because of aiming to tame her properly and if your words can’t do it, then sure, maybe your cock will do the talking.

You don’t even need to command Yena to open her mouth as she does it involuntarily, begging you for more until it was all unable to beared and contained, letting everything but indulged within and you can just see your whole length being submerged into the depths of her mouth, taking more and fully encouraging you to even go deeper. The incredible suction of her cheeks never fails to bewilder you, let alone diving deeper as every inch of her walls results in marvelous groans of pleasure because of the warmth and the right tightness of it. You gave Yena’s mouth few thrusts to get herself used on your whole length again—in a better view, she doesn’t really need that since she’s sucking and getting her mouth used by you very often that it’s started to molded onto the shape of your cock—wanting her to feel every inch of it brushing down her throat as she gags when it hits the back of her throat. She fights it with all her might this time, and when you notice her gag reflex calming down, now’s the time to use the pliant princess’s heavenly throat like how she deserves it.

How does she deserve it? Well, it’s only a matter of time for her to find out.

With now a better feeling from both parties, your hips now ensued such a breakneck pace, catching her off-guard. Yena almost breaks herself free but knowing that if she does, she will be in big trouble and be prone to a worse punishment in which she wouldn’t want to. With that in mind, she fights herself onto your rapid usage of her whole throat as drool inevitably seeps out of her mouth, coating everything in its vicinity with her saliva that further adds to the lubrication with your ruthless advances. You tighten the grip on her hair, causing to add more mess to her already disheveled locks as you continuously rammed her throat like you want to prove something—you don’t need to prove anything but rather, prove herself worthy of your mercy.

“Is this what you fucking wanted, Yena? Your f-face to be fucked like a-an animal?” It’s a rhetorical question but an evident nod ensued right after, noticing it even with your rapid pace trying to open up Yena’s throat as you could find yourself getting harsher with one goal in mind: to tame her and possibly, fuck that brattiness out of her brat mouth.

You didn’t just mindfully thrust your hips like you’re in autopilot, but rather set series of forceful deepthroats, filling every inch of her slutty throat up to the brim, balls-deep and then resuming back onto thrusting—it repeats like a cycle, and that’s part of the plan: foreplay, to be build the suspense and then suddenly go berserk. You playfully tug her hair in order to force her down and then taking your entire length with thrusts ensued on a quick succession, each oscillation hits her saliva-sheathed chin with your own balls as the audible sounds of such skin clapping is arousing you even further.

“Fuck—this bratty throat feels good—can’t wait to even feel more of you, princess—fuck!” You continue to give her ruthless thrusts, breaking the velocity barrier your hips can muster as you pull out of her mouth and not surprisingly, she gasps for heavy breaths and multiple coughs because of your harshness down her throat.

“G-God, daddy—t-that was s-so good—hah, y-you’re going t-to make my throat sore…” Yena muttered between catching breaths and a broken voice, truly making you admire the masterclass you’ve done that she surely loved.

“Of course—need this fucking throat to teach a lesson.”

“A l-lesson? Am I the n-naughtiest student you’ve ever seen, d-daddy?” Yena seduces you with her vixen capabilities and her honey-laced words dripping with lust, and it forces you to sully her again, specifically her mouth.

“You know the answer to that, princess.” Yena looks up with you with a smirk, her mischievous plan starting to come together as she bites her lips and moaned uncontrollably, your hands finding its way on caressing her perky yet voluptuous mounds as you aimed to weaken her until she’s about to be fully submissive. With her hands still on her back, she can’t help herself to fight the pleasure as she can only just whimper and close her eyes, letting the serotonin course down her veins as every second that passes is fully treasured by the bratty princess in front of you.

“I would have used your throat more harshly but bad brats like you don’t deserve to swallow my cum—not even a single ounce of it.” Your hands then palmed her cheek as your fingers caressed it right after, admiring the sullied countenance of Yena’s face that deserves to be at the hall of fame on how it perfectly depicts the oxymoron, “the ruined goddess”.

“Brats need to be punished for being such a bitch and if my words can’t tame you—” Your suspenseful tone is intimidating her, sending chills down her spine as every word you say is laced with sincerity and full on lust. Her mouth shivers when she feels your hand teasing her cheek with your throbbing length, and it’s just becoming better for now considering how you’re building up such a stupendous anticipation that anyone can hook onto, even the both of you. “—then maybe my cock will.” 

You slap your length onto her cheek, making her yelp a little as you command her to stand up, her immediately obliging to your imperative advances, even with a visible struggle because of her lack of balance. 

“Sit here and wait for me, okay? I’ll get something and don’t you dare move away from this position.” You glared at her as she nodded slowly, her mouth curling up onto a smile as her eyes glistened with her own desires, only thinking further of what you may have in store for her.

---

“Wear it, Yena.”

“But don’t I look silly, daddy?”

“Just fucking wear it—it’ll be good on you…” You grow impatient with her complaints as she does what she’s requested to do, as she wears the belt-like leather collar around her neck, her hands trembling probably from her nervousness and there’s nothing to worry about it, knowing it’ll fade faster than the speed of light. With her collar now around her neck, you commanded her to go on all her fours on the bed and again, she quickly obliged, not wanting you to wait any further. Greed consumes over you, finding its way to succumb onto your lustful needs as you line your swollen head within the emanating heat of her lower lips as she moans in every tease you do, fueling up each others’ libido. 

As much as you want to tease the living brat out of her, your aim is to fuck it out of her and you’ll do exactly what you need to.

Not wasting any second, the climax of the show starts as you penetrate her with your whole length and in response, she screams in delight because of how big you are inside her, feeling that you may destroy her guts. You easily fill her up to the hilt, burying your entire shaft inside her and then withdrawing to slam back in hard, making her cry for your mercy and to further fuck her like an animal.

The comeuppance starts, and you’re willing to teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget—you may have done this to her a lot of times but this time, it would hit differently and you would end this session making her know who you really are to mess with.

Grateful to the helping aid of lubrication with her juices coursing down, and around your shaft, you start off with a relentless pace and don't give her time to get used to your length, wanting to make her feel your wrath and how she deserves to be treated. She further moans in every withdrawal you do as the collar helps for a better leverage onto ramming into her tight core repeatedly, and as the cherry on top, you like the muffled sounds of her chokes every time you pull the chain of the collar, you could hear her broken moans and probably, even asphyxiating her—one of her kinks is you choking her, and you’re glad to be innovative and creative on fulfilling that and knowing this, Yena appreciates this truly as she voices out to even ruin her further.

“D-Daddy—r-ruin my slu—slut pussy! I d-deserve t—to be treated l-like this—oh gosh—holy fuck!!”

You continuously do as so, and with her repeated pleas, you grew annoyed with her ebullient noises and stated your frustrations towards her. “Just s-shut the fuck up and take my cock well, princess!”

With your further attempts of silencing her with your ramming clashes against her tight pussy, you vent out your frustrations and channel everything onto your thrusts, causing her to repeatedly plead and moan because of your aggressive actions. She wanted this deserves this, so she just deserves to be fucked like a true animal. Her arms grew weaker, unable to support her upper frame due to the constant overloading of pleasure she’s been feeling and wanting to bury her head with her advances, you won’t let a single trick up her sleeve be deemed successful against you as you pulled the collar towards you, making her compose such broken melodies that reverberated around the room, and around your ears.

You can hear her cries in every thrust you do, as it’s all starting to come to the point where she’ll fully succumb to her needs and submissiveness, which is your goal before this steamy session ends. It wasn't long before you gave her round, bubble buttcheeks the hardest spanks it deserves as it became frequent all of a sudden, making her yelp and cry because of your harsh actions against her constantly-rammed backside. With now your hands fully occupied to treat her like the slut she is and like the brat she deserves, Yena can’t help but just think of your cock ravaging her tight, little cunt rapidly as it clouds her, same repeated, wanton moans are the response of your actions and knowing she wouldn’t last long at this time and with her cunt constantly clenching, you double the efforts on fucking her onto oblivion as the lustful drive in you takes over. 

“You’re about to cum, right, Yena?”

She mutters a stuttered “yes” as she nods frantically before resuming her constant moans of pleasure. “But what if I don’t want my princess to cum? Will she not cum for her daddy or will she be punished for good? Because—” You let go of the tight grip on the chains of the leather collar as you inch closely onto her ear and whispered with venom, “—if you didn’t follow me, there will be serious consequences and you won’t like that, won’t you, Yena?”

Yena’s apologetic cries can be heard laced in her agreement, scared that she may provoke you that will make her needs be deprived. “I w-will do anything f-for you, daddy but p-please—-ahh!”

You kiss her nape, and then her neck, showing your affection towards her as you worship the musky scent of her body emanating sweat, perfume and sex as you respond, “Please what, princess?”

It took seconds for Yena to respond, the gratification becoming too much to handle as she composes herself, and pleads for you. “P-Please let me cum, daddy…”

A side of you is fainthearted: wanting to not make herself be lost and want her to engage on her high as much as possible but she needs to be punished, and your conclusion with that? To fully ruin her.

Thanks to the constant lapping of her juices, it didn’t became a struggle to lubricate her puckered hole as you insert your thumb in it, opting to stimulate her further as you continued to fuck her mercilessly. It wouldn’t take long before she reaches her high with of the kinky stuff and the most stimulating advances being done all in one session as she lets out whimpers, and knowing that her high is near and you know it’ll blast like a volcano, you wouldn’t put her to torture as lean in again to her ear and then whispering again, “Then cum on my cock, princess—let it all out.”

Giving her the final thrusts with her collar as a leverage onto a greater quality of such mindless abomination of fucking, she clenched tightly as you groan because of it and within a second, she’s in her own blissful trance, moaning out your name as she voices out her ecstasy.

“D-Don’t s-stop fucking me, d-daddy—oh fuck—I’m c-cumming so h-hard—fuck!!”

As requested by her, you continue ramming her pussy as she climaxes beautifully, voicing out series of ecstatic moans as she forms a rivulet around your shaft, dripping it all over her thighs, your balls and some even on the bed sheets which soon will be changed because of how filthy and messy it would be after the both of you are done. You continue oscillating at such an incredible pace that you didn’t mind making her recover on her high, making her yell in pleasure and utmost sensitivity. With a ruthless pace, of course, you didn’t ignore the chains as you pulled

“Are y-you close, daddy? Please c-cum inside m-me—fuck, p-please, daddy—ahh—mmfh-ahh!”

“Don’t tell me what to do, slut!” Of course, after her ephemeral orgasm, you resume onto your harshness, spanking and fondling her mounds as you draw circles down her taut buds, making her whimper because of the pleasure and sensitivity. You grew frustrated and enough of her bratty actions of eternal need as you choke her a little with the collar, further ramming into her tight cunt repeatedly as her thighs now quiver, her limbs growing weaker and letting herself succumb onto your own spell, hypnotizing her with the rapid sounds of bodies clashing together that adds up to the sea of sinful sounds that’s been kept inside this puny room right from the start.

Now chasing your own orgasm and to further commit onto fucking that living brat out of her body, you gave in to your primal desires, fucking each other like animals as within a few thrusts or seconds from now, it won’t be long until you meet yourself onto the promised land—in the possibly eternal state of bliss.

Now, having enough of the collar, you pull her hair as you draw yourself closer to your own orgasm, wanting to make sure that you’ll have one hell of a climax. You repeatedly spank her to further arouse yourself onto the hypnotizing jiggles of that porcelain flesh, making you indulge and draw yourself onto the red and soon enough, it wouldn’t be that long to meet it.

“I’m going to fucking c-cum in this tight, slutty, bratty pussy, alright, princess? Be sure to take it all because fuck—t-this pussy is literally the best!”

“Yes, da—daddy! Please c-cum in me—finally, p-please—ahh—mmfhh!” You continue your rapid thrusts as your fingers coursed its way onto her mouth, making her suck it as she wantonly savors your fingers like it’s your beloved shaft, sensually licking every inch clean as you buried your whole length in her, unable to pull back but just give in.

Series of thick shots flooded her velvety walls, causing her to moan on your fingers as she can feel the warmth of your semen coating each inch of her flesh white and god, she’s also in a state of bliss on how well she is filled by you. She continues sucking and you continue depositing, even thrusting slowly to extend your orgasm further and as it dies down, you leisurely pulled out—and of course, Yena whimpered because she feels empty without your whole length ravaging inside her—of the tightness of her core, a little exhausted because of your harsh work against her sopping wet cunt and what an incredible sight it bestowed you: her freshly-fucked folds full of your cum, some of it even leaking out of her due to the stupendous amount of volume deposited in it.

Guess her highfalutin came down on a sullied conclusion; it was an incredible display of a steamy session, much likely to be cherished as the once boisterous, sex-filled room has now toned down onto tranquil and silence—mostly just heavy breaths can be heard but it is close on silence.

Yena falls limp onto the bed, her back rests as her lips tremble within her voice, “Y-you c-came so much, daddy—i-it’s so thick a-and warm—hah…”

“Now, are you satisfied, princess?”

“More than t-that, daddy…” Yena voices out her utter satisfaction as her needs are now fulfilled by you and right after, she beams a bright smile onto you which makes you faintly grin in response due to her contagious happiness. 

“Also, I’m s-sorry about acting like that earlier, daddy…” You know her apologies aren’t sincere but at the same time, they are—it’s not sincere in a way that she’ll act like a spoiled brat again someday, but now, you’re glad that you’ve fucked your way to teach her a lesson—living the new, ephemeral disposition of hers that’s down-to-earth. You would treasure this truly, but Yena, on the other hand, isn’t in the same shoes with you.

“I want some more, daddy—we can experiment on anything we want, tonight because—” Yena’s hands averted onto your jaw, making you face her as she continues, “—I’m all yours, daddy.”

Seems like she needed more than what you’ve given her and with that, you’re giving her anything to the point of no-return.

[aurorasgate]

Hi, Luna!

Could I request cozy + soft kiss with Vincent, please? Thank you! 🩷

vincent valentine x reader

falling for you event (event requests closed)

this is my first time ever writing for vincent and ahhhh i actually really loved how it turned out. i hope you like it and thank you for requesting for my event!

on chilly sleepless nights with the wind howling and the trees scraping against old glass one might not be too keen to walk through eerie hallways of old manors and into dusty rooms, let alone dare to open suspicious coffins they may find lying in the dark. 

but your restless mind and body are exactly the reason you’re down here, tip-toeing through the shinra manor as if the man you’re looking for, longing for, won’t hear you coming anyways. like the coffin he spends most of his time in is as familiar as your own bed rather than part of funerals and scary stories reminiscent of vampires. 

unknowingly, you hold your breath, step even lighter, from the moment you pass through the threshold into the room where vincent's oak coffin sits quietly. if he had heard you coming, he doesn’t bother getting up or making a sound but perhaps he had known it could only be you foolish enough to come searching for monsters that lurk in the basement, hoping to help ease the pressure in your chest and settle your mind that just won’t stop moving.

the gold plating along the coffin is cold to touch but begins to warm under your hesitant fingers that are frozen there rather than pushing off the lid or knocking? would that be more appropriate? but as you linger there, over thinking that maybe this was all so stupid to begin with, that he wouldn’t possibly want to be bothered with.. well - whatever the fuck was going on with you tonight that brought you straight to the man who had stolen your heart without trying. and maybe without him even wanting-

before the painful thought can fully form, the coffin lid begins to move, the familiar click of metal that often accompanies vincent's metal clad hand a quiet jingle in your ears that both calms your anxious soul and makes your heart nearly jump out of your chest.

holding your hand to your chest, as if the moving lid had splintered your hand, you swallow your heart in your throat and feel it get caught in the swarm of butterflies that flutter wildly in your rib cage as you stare into the coffin, captivated by the red eyes looking back at you, one of them seemingly glowing in the dark.

finally you let out the air you had been holding in the form of your tumbling words that you couldn’t stop or make more coherent no matter how much you tried. “vincent! i - i’m s-sorry - i was just - you see i - well i didn’t mean to - i mean -”

“what’s wrong?” he asks, an urgent graveness to his voice but it’s his touch and not his words that stop you in your tracks, the leather of his glove warm and gentle around your wrist. a tenderness he hadn’t thought himself capable of any longer until he had met you.

the breath you take in is shaking and when you don’t immediately reply, you watch quietly as ruby eyes start to look you over, half hidden by dark hair, thick lashes and knitted brows. when he finds you unscathed and still silent, his intense gaze returns to yours and you know you have no choice but to tell him.

“nothing’s wrong, really. it’s just.. i.. i just couldn’t sleep,” you reply, your words turning into a quiet murmur as you break your eyes from his and looking down at your feet, past where he still holds you with care and worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

“hm.” he seems to think for a moment before letting go of your wrist. “i see.” 

you aren’t unused to his answers like this but tonight it makes you worry you had only been a bother. reluctantly, readying yourself to make your way back through shinra manor with a heavy, foolish, heart, you dare to look at the source of the muffled sounds of him moving back into his coffin.

vincent settles in quickly, like you’re sure he has hundreds of nights before, and closes his eyes, pulling his cape up with a swoosh. he holds it open expectantly, as if waiting for you to curl inside his makeshift wing.

patiently he waits while you slip off your shoes and hold onto the edges of the wood to carefully climb inside. you don’t get a chance to overthink how the both of you were going to fit in here before the hand holding his cape is at your back, guiding you into a comfortable position that leaves you practically on top of him and the red fabric of always wears lays over you like a makeshift blanket.

you can hear his heart beating steadily in your ear, your every breath full of his scent that carries a hint of bergamot, can feel the rise and fall of his chest under your palm and shamelessly relish in the weight of his arm around your middle, keeping you safely pressed against him.

your restless mind settles, the warmth of your bodies quickly drawing out the tiredness you tried so hard to feel in your own bed but couldn’t replicate on your own, without vincent beside you. and you wonder if perhaps, just maybe, your presence lessened the weight of his own burdens and self proclaimed sins.

slowly, your tired fingers trace the delicate details of one of the many straps on his chest, accompanied by a wiggle of your toes that brush against his leg but he doesn’t seem to mind. he’s still and quiet, the only sign of life being the shallow intakes of his breaths and the fingers resting on your back that twitch at the feeling of your hand on his chest moving upward, over the fabric of his cape that covers his neck until you’re met with the soft skin of his jaw.

“still so restless.” he says, the timber of his voice vibrating your flushed chests and instinctively bringing you closer to him, coaxing the press into the bottom of the plush lined coffin with your toes so you can be face to face with him. he peaks open one eye, the glow of chaos illuminating back at you. “should i put the lid on to help settle you down?”

suppressing your chuckle, feeling relaxed and comfortable and bold, you lean in close, enough so you can feel the heat of his breath, the slight chapness of his lips. “‘m sorry. i’m not trying to be a bother.”

“i didn’t say you were.”

his hand not at your back reaches for your face, brushing stray hairs from your cheek to behind your ear and needing no strength to pull you close, erasing the last bit of distance between your lips that slot together perfectly, so incredibly soft you might have thought you dreamt it had his next words not been undeniably real in your ears and as they wrap around your heart.

“come find me again when you can’t sleep,” vincent cradles the back of your skull in his large palm, the hand at your back holding you tighter, pulling you into another tender kiss, a seal to this promise, “i’ll watch over you.”

main masterlist

[ifearzombies]

What You Wear

Little things I headcanon MC wears on their RAD uniform to keep the people they love close during the day.

From Lucifer:

A small brooch of a peacock feather on your RAD jacket. It’s a beautiful golden feather with multi-colored gems to detail the colours. You love how it accents your uniform and makes you feel slightly more regal.

From Mammon:

You have not just the chocolate lizard keychain, but there’s one of a bird on your RAD uniform belt. It’s not really gold, and the gem eyes are just crystals, but the bird sits on your waist everyday and you fiddle with it when you miss your first man.

From Leviathan:

You have a small goldfish pendant. The chain is a snake-chain design and the pendant is made of acrylic to make it look real. On the back it reads ‘To my Henry’. You can’t help but occasionally kiss it when you pass Levi in the halls to make him blush.

From Satan:

A small golden ring with cats carved into it sits on your middle left finger (with Satan’s instructions to show Lucifer just the one finger to show it off). The cats have emerald eyes to match Satan’s and you fiddle with it when you’re in class together and watch him perform his spells.

From Asmodeus:

A jangly charm bracelet with little chibis of him sits on your right wrist. He wants you to remember his beauty when you’re separated and this was the perfect way for you to look at him when you’re apart.

From Beelzebub:

He gave you a fitbit that you wear on your left wrist so that you can keep track of your health. Humans have short life spans, so he wants you to stay healthy so you can have as much time together as possible. Plus he likes to compete with you slightly over who has more steps per day. He always wins, but you can’t help but keep ‘competing’ to see his overjoyed smile.

From Belphegor:

You have a ring on middle right finger with Belphie’s bear emblem on it, the stones amethyst and diamonds to show his colours. He smiles when he sees the ring on your hand and is sure to comment on it. You ruffle his hair in return.

From Solomon:

You have fire topaz earring studs from the magician. They’re enchanted to boost your magic abilities during exams that involve magic since your powers (without boost) is weak in comparison to him. He smiles whenever he sees you wear them outside of RAD.

From Simeon:

On another belt loop you have a couple of the diamond shaped gold plates that came from Simeon’s angelic clothing. He got the ones he removed replaced, but he wanted you to have the originals so that he’d always be with you- like a guardian angel.

From Luke:

Your feet never get tired from walking around RAD all day because Luke gave you several pairs of socks from the Celestial Realm that make it feel like you’re walking on clouds. You thank the little angel every chance you get because you walk EVERYWHERE in the Devildom. The socks have been your biggest lifesaver.

From Barbatos:

In the breast pocket of your RAD uniform is the most exquisite pocket watch with the emblem for RAD on it’s cover and on the back, Barbatos’ demon symbol. You’re an example. And should always be on time and presentable, in his opinion. Whenever you’re caught using it, Barbatos gives a nod of approval and smiles.

From Diavolo:

In another pocket of your uniform is a glasses case with Diavolo’s symbol on it. The glasses are enchanted to translate demonic texts to a language you understand as when you first arrived, you couldn’t understand some of your textbooks. You cherish the glasses. Plus, Diavolo has stated he thinks they look great on you, so you tend to wear them most of the day you’re at RAD.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Vibranium & Stainless Steel -Oneshot *Request*

Word count: 3203 Warnings: language, smut

Y/N was an Avenger.  Well, not like a big superhero type of Avenger.  She was mostly on the sidelines, and only called in when information extraction was needed.  Since Wanda was M.I.A. for the foreseeable future, Nick Fury had been on the hunt for someone who could read minds, and had sniffed Y/N out, a mutant, from some online mutant-safe chat rooms.  She had gone through some training, but overall she wasn’t needed in the field until the Avengers brought back bad guys as prisoners who refused to talk.

It was always a sight to behold when the bad guy would be plopped down on a chair in an interrogation room, looking warily at the room full of superheroes, then in would walk Y/N, a short, plump, bookish-looking woman with large glasses and an oversized dress and cardigan over top.  The bad guys would always scoff at her, until she touched their faces and dug around in their minds, finding everything the Avengers needed to know.

She loved being a part of something bigger, something that felt important.  And she was making new friends, some of them feeling as close as family.  The only problem she had came in the form of James Buchanan Barnes.  Boy was she glad he wasn’t the one who could read minds, otherwise she’d be utterly embarrassed on a daily basis.  Y/N never tried to read the Avengers minds, she had no reason to, and it felt like a huge invasion of privacy.  But every once in a while when she would stare at him too long she thought she noticed a hungry glance being thrown her way.  Surely it was a trick of her mind.

Y/N also could not stop staring at his vibranium arm.  The thing was a work of art, a technological masterpiece.  It fascinated her, intrigued her, and whenever he was close by if she wasn’t being distracted by his inhumanly attractive face, she was gobsmacked by his vibranium arm.  

Over time she noticed Bucky being closer to her, whether it was during group movie nights sitting next to her, staying close whenever they would bring in someone to have her read their mind, sitting at the kitchen table during meals, and he volunteered to give her gun training.  She decided to be brave and ask if he wanted to have a movie night in her room one day.  “You’ve gotta get updated with the best cinema of the last eighty years!” she exclaimed as she pulled up her online streaming accounts.

“And what great piece of cinematography are you going to educate me on?” Bucky laughed.

“Legally Blonde,” Y/N smirked as she looked at him and pressed play.  “Now pass the popcorn.”

As the movie progressed, Y/N was distracted once again, her eyes drifting from the screen to the metal arm that she had purposefully sat next to.  Bucky was leaned back against her headboard, smiling at one part of the movie, long legs stretching out on the bed and his hands intertwined on his stomach.  She eyed his metal arm as inconspicuously as she could.  The way it was formed, the metal manipulated to look like a human arm would, with the plates and divots following the natural lines of muscle that would normally be there was captivating.  The gold that peaked through the plates seemed to shine even in the dimly lit room, complimenting the dark gray color of the rest of the arm.  Her gaze strayed to his hand, matching in size to his flesh one, the smaller plates and glimpses of gold almost making it look, if she didn’t know better, like a really cool futuristic tattoo.  

He suddenly moved his metal arm and laid it flat between them on the bed.  “You can touch it if you want,” Bucky said quietly.

Y/N’s eyes snapped up to his face.  He wasn’t looking at her, still watching the movie, but he had a teasing grin pulling at his lips.  Y/N hung her head and started giggling, covering her face with her hands.  “I’m sorry, Buck.”

Bucky laughed.  “It’s okay.  I get it, it’s a bit strange,” he said, finally looking down at his arm.  He turned it over and rolled his wrist, then flexed his fingers.

“It’s vibranium, right?” she asked.

“Yep.  Designed by Wakanda’s best,” he said, glancing at her.  

“Can you…feel with it?” Y/N asked, her hand slowly reaching out and running a finger along his forearm.

“In a weird way, yeah,” Bucky nodded.  “It’s more of a pressure thing.  I can tell that something or someone is touching me.  It’s hooked up to my nervous system somehow.  I don’t pretend to understand anything Shuri told me about it when they first gave it to me,” he snorted.

Y/N hummed, her finger moving closer to his wrist.  “Can it do anything?”

“Besides bash people’s heads in?” Bucky asked with raised eyebrows.

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “Yes, we get it, you’re a big bad super soldier,” she scoffed.  “I mean does it have any features?  Like does it regulate temperature?  Or a hidden compartment for a gun in there?  Or rockets like the Iron Man suit?  Or–”

Bucky laughed loudly at that as he sat up and turned more to face her.  “No, but I wish!  I should talk to Shuri about that.”  He reached the hand out and took hold of her hand, putting her palm facing upright.  “It can regulate temperature,” he said, laying his palm on top of hers.  She felt it start to heat up a little and her eyebrows raised in surprise.  “Super strong, obviously,” he said.  “Vibranium can only be destroyed by other vibranium, so nearly indestructible.  And lately I found something weird,” he said with a frown.  He lifted his hand off of hers and held it up between them.  He focused on his fingers, and Y/N gasped as they started to vibrate.  “I don’t really know what that’s for, but it’s interesting,” he said, turning his hand over.

“That is…interesting,” Y/N said, gulping quickly as her thighs pressed together.  

Bucky hummed then the vibration stopped.  “Otherwise it functions like a regular arm.  I’m able to subconsciously do everything I do with my right hand.  I can also write with it,” he said with a lopsided smile.  “It makes me ambidextrous.”

“How funny,” Y/N smiled.  “Does it ever…hurt?”

“No,” Bucky shook his head, his gaze meeting hers.

“Good,” she nodded.  They stared at each other for a moment before Y/N blinked rapidly and looked back at the TV.  “Oh!  Here’s the bend and snap!”

“The what?” Bucky scoffed.

***

After that movie night whenever Y/N and Bucky were together he would reach out and touch her with the metal arm.  It was always something playful, like tickling the back of her neck when her hair was up, gently pulling her hair when it was down, poking her anywhere she had exposed skin while he made his finger ice cold, which made her squeak one too many times in important meetings.

Then the touches became friendlier.  When she sat next to him on his left side he would rest the metal arm behind her on the couch, let her hold onto it during scary movies, then reach over and squeeze her knee or thigh randomly.  Y/N was brave again and randomly grabbed his hand, holding it and examining it while everyone was hanging out and talking one night.  She intertwined her fingers with his metal ones, ignoring his eyes on her as she paid attention to the conversation.  It wasn’t the most comfortable thing, holding onto metal, but he didn’t pull away, so she didn’t let go.  Bucky seemed to enjoy the fact that the arm didn’t scare or worry her, and that someone accepted that piece of him that was considered so dangerous.

Y/N’s fantasies and dreams got progressively more spicy after seeing his fingers vibrate.  She woke up in a sweat most mornings, her hips trembling as the last memories of her dreams riddled with Bucky’s vibranium hand between her legs would flit away.  Her staring got worse by the day, until one night while they were in his room hanging out Bucky’s metal fingers snapped in front of her face.

“Jesus, doll, did you hear anything I just said?” he asked, his eyes narrowed at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Y/N closed her eyes and shook her head.  “My mind has just been…elsewhere.”

“Does elsewhere have my metal arm as the star of the show?” he asked, arching his eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she could feel a deep blush painting her cheeks.  “What?  No, I, uh…” she floundered.  He gave her an unimpressed look and Y/N sighed, looking away.  “I’m sorry, Buck.  I shouldn’t stare.  It’s just really cool, beautiful even!  And ever since you showed me the features I’ve been thinking about how it would—” she cut herself off with a gasp, covering her mouth with her hands.

Both of Bucky’s eyebrows raised.  “How it would…what?” He asked, slightly tilting his head.

Y/N shook her head.  “Nothing, uh, forget it,” she said, sliding off his bed and backing away towards his door.  “I um, I gotta go do something, I forgot–”

Bucky quickly stood and walked toward her.  “How it would what, Y/N?” he said, making her back up faster.  She didn’t realize how close she already was to his door and backed into it loudly with a huff.  Bucky’s arms caged her against the door, his head dipping down to be eye level with her.  She stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth agape as her breathing got heavier.  The look he was giving her was one she’d never seen before, at least not in real life.  His gaze flickered across her face, his own breathing becoming heavy.  “Answer me,” he grumbled.

Y/N swallowed harshly.  “H-how it would f-f-feel,” she stammered in a whisper.

“How it would feel…where?”  Bucky breathed, his head tilting again and eyes narrowing.

“On me,” Y/N replied.

Bucky let out a frustrated sigh.  “Are you always this infuriating?” he asked.  “Use your words, Y/N.  Be a big girl and tell me what it is you want.”

Y/N whined involuntarily and it made his eyes widen.  It was now or never.  “I want you to use your fingers as a vibrator on my clit,” she whispered in a shaky breath.  “I want to feel them inside me.  All over me.  I want y-you.”  Y/N slowly reached a shaking hand up and caressed his cheek.  “I l-like you…a lot.”

Bucky’s eyes fluttered at the feeling of her fingers on his face.  Then his hands slid from the door to cup her face, his metal thumb sweeping across her cheek.  “I like you, too,” he breathed, then leaned down and kissed her fiercely.  

Y/N couldn’t hold back the moan that traveled up her throat at finally feeling his lips against hers.  Her arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him close as he kissed her until she felt lightheaded.  Bucky’s metal fingers wrapped around the back of her neck and into her hair, forcing her head into a different angle to deepen the kiss.  His rougher treatment made her whimper against his mouth, and he opened his mouth to lick at her lower lip, then nip at it teasingly.  

Bucky licked into her mouth, tasting her tongue and groaning at how easily pliable she was being for him.  “Are you sure you want this, doll?” he asked quietly as he moved his kisses to her cheek then down her neck.  “I’m a bit of a mess.”

“My mess,” Y/N immediately responded.

Bucky huffed a laugh against her ear.  “Your mess,” he chuckled.  

Y/N’s hands felt him all over his back, his sides, and up his front.  Her fingers ran over something hard on his chest, and she followed the line of a chain up to his neck.  It was his dog tags.  She twisted the chain out from his shirt so she could grip the dog tags and pull him down harder as she kissed his mouth again.  Jesus, do I have a metal fetish? 

“Fuck!” Bucky growled.  His metal fingers fisted into her hair and tugged as he bit her lip harder then sucked on it.  Y/N whimpered again and he turned them both around and started walking towards his bed.  He released her hair and took a step back.  “Strip,” he commanded.

Y/N took off her clothes in record time.  Bucky looked her over slowly, the desire in his eyes making them look darker.  He took off his dog tags and hung them around Y/N’s neck.  The feeling of the metal hitting her sternum made her shiver.  He then gripped the chain like she had before and tugged her harshly towards him.  “Mine,” he grumbled.

“Yours,” Y/N nodded.

He then pushed her back onto the bed and she quickly crawled backwards until she was laying flat and watching him.  Bucky then started to slowly strip out of his clothes, his eyes never leaving her.  Once he was fully naked in front of her he started to crawl up the bed until he hovered over her.  He leaned on his flesh hand as his metal one reached up towards her mouth.  His fingers brushed over her lips, which she obediently opened.  “Get them wet for me, doll,” he said lowly.  Y/N nodded and sucked his fingers into her mouth.  She licked and sucked them heavily until he pulled them out of her mouth and brought them down in between her legs.  “That’s so hot, doll,” he said, looking down at her pussy.  “You’re good with your mouth, aren’t you?  Can’t wait to have you suck my cock soon.”

Y/N gasped then moaned as his metal fingers started slipping through her lower lips, rubbing her all over until they finally found her clit.  He rubbed it slowly, then looked at her face as his fingers started vibrating.  Her mouth dropped open in a silent moan, her fingers gripping the blanket beneath her for dear life.  The way the metal felt against her core was strangely addicting, with his fingers interchanging between warm and cool as he regulated the temperature while they vibrated on her clit.  He then left his thumb on her clit while the others dipped down until he could find her entrance, prodding one finger in, then another once he found how wet she was.  

“Oh my god!” she cried out.  “Buck…Bucky…I-I…fuck!”

“Is this what you wanted, doll?” Bucky smirked.  “Is it how you imagined it would be?”

Y/N’s head thrashed as his fingers thrust back and forth into her, the vibrating as they curled against that spot deep inside making her see stars.  “Better,” she squeaked.  “So much better!”

Bucky smiled wide and leaned down to kiss her again.  Within a few moments his touches brought her over the edge and she squealed into his mouth, her hot breaths fanning his face.  She was shaking as he slowly pulled his fingers out of her and brought them up to his mouth as he pulled away from the kiss, licking them clean and moaning at the taste of her.  “Goddamn, doll,” he said.  “Next time I’m gonna take my sweet time tasting you.  But right now I just need to be in you.”  Y/N nodded tiredly, still recovering from her orgasm.  He positioned himself in between her legs, lifting them up and over his hips as he gripped his cock with his flesh hand and pumped himself a few times then ran the tip of it through her wet lower lips.  “Do we need protection?” he asked suddenly, glancing up at her face.

“No,” Y/N shook her head, her pussy positively throbbing and begging to be filled.

“God I love this century,” he smiled.  Bucky started slowly pushing into Y/N and she shuddered, trying to breath through and adjust to the intoxicating stretch of his cock.  

“Bucky…” Y/N breathed as he finally bottomed out.  “You feel so good.”

“Fuck doll, you’re perfect,” Bucky huffed, his brow furrowed in concentration.  “Best pussy I’ve ever felt, holy shit…”

He leaned back down and started kissing and licking along her breasts, then slowly began his thrusts in and out of her.  Y/N felt like she was just trying not to lose her head, but was nearly delirious at how perfectly he fit inside her.  All she could focus on was him.  All she could see, feel, hear, and taste was him.  Bucky’s metal hand slid up her stomach and over her chest, tweaking whichever nipple he wasn’t currently sucking on.  It then slid up to her neck where he wrapped his fingers around her throat.  Her fingers gripped his metal wrist, her eyes widening as she stared up at him.  “Please,” she whispered.

Bucky watched her carefully for any signs of discomfort as he squeezed her throat.  He wouldn’t find any.  Y/N’s head tilted back, her eyes rolling back into her head as she gasped at the feeling of his fingers around her neck and the grounding effect it had while the restricting of her breath pushed her further into delirium.  “Fuck, Y/N,” he moaned.  “Where have you been all my life, huh?”  He let go of her throat, letting her breathe normally again, but his metal hand went to the dog tags resting in the middle of her sternum, and pulled them so her head was forced up, meeting him halfway.  His hips picked up a frantic pace, skin slapping against skin, their combined panting breaths making the moment feel intensely intimate.  “You’re mine, you hear me?” he growled, his nose nuzzling hers.  The dichotomy of sweetness and possessiveness made her pussy flutter around him.  “Mine.”

“Yours,” Y/N promised, nuzzling him back, then kissing his metal knuckles.  “Mine.”

“Fuck yeah, I’m yours, all yours doll,” Bucky smirked.  He kissed her hard, and it was finally enough to have her cumming again.  She screamed into his mouth, her fingers scratching his back and her legs shaking.  Bucky shuddered as her pussy gripped him insanely tight.  He was right behind her, cumming deep inside her and rutting it further into her until she could feel it leaking down to her ass.  His kisses became lazy as his hips came to a stop and they both calmed down, heavy breaths being swallowed by the other as he continued to lick into her mouth to taste her repeatedly.  “Shit, Y/N,” he huffed, making her smile.  

“Right back at ‘ya, baby,” she grinned.

Bucky’s gaze was flicking around her face, memorizing the moment, his eyes twinkling.  “I like being your baby,” he murmured, his metal finger tracing along her cheeks and her nose.

She turned her head and kissed his metal finger.  He grabbed the dog tags again and held it up to her lips, and she kissed them.  “I like being your doll,” she replied.  

[liyliths]

.˚𓅆࿐ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 an aot au / inspired by the hunger games

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

series summary: survive. that's all you've known you're entire life - to survive. survive district 12, survive the reaping, and survive the capitol. but when you're reaped for the 98th annual hunger games alongside levi ackerman, will you seize the opportunity of rebellion when it arises? the mockingjay is singing, dear reader, please choose wisely.

"I don’t sleep," Levi finally mutters. You scoff. "Ha, funny." He pushes off the railing. "Fine then, I’m going back to my room." "Wait," you say instinctively, your free hand catching his wrist before he can leave. "Don’t go." Levi closes his eyes, considering for just a moment before sighing, pulling his hand from your grasp. But instead of leaving, he places his hands back onto the railing. "Alright." You glance down at the city below, your fingers tracing the patterns of your dessert plate. "I’m sorry I went after you earlier," you say.

pairings: levi ackerman x reader

contains: fem!reader, strangers to lovers, slow burn, hurt and comfort, semi canon compliant, character death, descriptions of blood, phycological trauma, rebellion, this is gonna hurt but be so rewarding, and any other warnings that come with aot characters/the hunger games universe

word count: 7.4k

playlist

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After a night of slumber, your team got to work on you and Levi by noon in preparation for the interviews. Your lessons with Hannes and Valerie are over, now the day belongs to Hange. You’re washed down, re-waxed which wasn’t pleasant in the slightest, and your hair was done into a neat updo. 

By late afternoon, your makeup was done. You were all ready aside from the finishing touch being your dress, which you were anxious to try on. Hange mentioned something about more fire, and even though you survived the first outfit, you wonder how this one will work. 

Will you and Levi be matching once again? Will you end up getting burnt? No, you trust Hange enough now to not question that. 

Hange returned to your room with what you guessed to be your dress. “Close your eyes,” she smiles.

It’s surprisingly heavy, the weight of it pressing against your shoulders, cascading down your frame like a waterfall of silk, and something feathery. It clings to your form perfectly, as if it were sculpted just for you. Hange moves quickly, fastening clasps, smoothing the fabric against your waist, adjusting the shoulders.

The texture is unlike anything you’ve ever worn. It isn’t the rough, patchy fabric of District 12, nor the sleek artificial materials of the Capitol. Instead, it’s a blend of soft and sharp, of feathers that ripple like shadows and embroidery that feels like embers beneath your fingertips.

“Alright,” Hange breathes, and you can hear the excitement underneath her voice. “Open your eyes!”

You blink your eyes open, readjusting to the bright lights above as you try to catch a glimpse of your reflection in the full length mirror before you. Your breath catches in your chest. The girl staring back at you is unrecognizable. Is it really you?

The dress is made of layered black feathers, so intricately placed that they look as if they were real, shifting with even the smallest movement. The bodice is tight, sculpted to fit you perfectly, the details glimmering like the dying glow of embers beneath a thick layer of ash. 

Your hands trail down the dress, where the feathers grow heavy and thick until they transform. The hem of the dress burns. Not literally, but the illusion is flawless. The edges glow with hues of orange, red, and gold, flickering like a dying fire, like a bird ready to take flight. It isn’t still, the flames seem to breathe, to move, licking at the ground but never consuming.

“Well?” Hange glances at you, watching your reflection in the mirror.

“Wow…” you breathe. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Hange clasps her hands together excitedly. “Of course, darling! You look gorgeous. Are you ready for the interview?”

Judging by the look on your stylist’s face, you can tell she’s talked to Hannes and Valerie by now. They’ve probably told her you’ll be hopeless in earning over the audience with your words, but you know they’re not wrong.

“No, not really. Hannes told me I have about as much charm as a dead slug,” you admit, absentmindedly fiddling with the feathers on your dress.

Hange does her best to stifle a laugh, gracefully clearing her throat. "Well, you charm me. Why don’t you just try and be yourself?"

Those words grate on your nerves, but you don’t find yourself mad at Hange. No, you’re mad at Hannes for even telling you those excruciating words yesterday in the first place. You are being yourself, but apparently, that won’t be enough. Not charming, witty, or charismatic enough to win anyone over.

You exhale, forcing the frustration down before it can fester. "Apparently, that’s not working out for me," you mutter, shrugging as you turn away from your reflection to meet Hange’s gaze.

She hums thoughtfully, tapping a finger against her chin. "Say, when you answer the questions, why don’t you pretend you're talking to a friend from back home?"

The suggestion makes you pause. A friend. Petra.

You could answer the questions as if you were talking to her. The way she’d listen, the way she’d smile, the way she always made you feel like your words meant something. Why didn’t you think of this? Not even Hannes or Valerie could have! God, Hange is a genius.

“Thank you, Hange. It’s a plan.” 

“Of course, dear. Now, let's get you going,” Hange quips, briskly guiding you by the shoulders to the waiting room where all the tributes prepare for their interviews. 

You two took the elevator to the waiting room just behind the huge interview stage. The ride was quiet, but just as you exchanged a small goodbye with Hange when the doors slid open, she grabbed your shoulder to stop you.

“Oh! How could I forget!” Hange says excitedly, fixing a few feathers on your dress and neatly smoothing them out. “Make sure you spin when you’re on stage.”

“What?”

Hange couldn’t help but laugh at your confusion. “It’ll be a surprise.”

Now your guess is more fire, just as she had mentioned earlier. “I’m excited to see what you’ve planned out.” you smile.

“Me too darling, me too. Now, move along. Levi should be waiting by now!” Hange exclaims, ushering you out of the elevator door. You don’t even get a chance to say goodbye before the doors slide close, leaving you on your own to find your seat.

You look for Levi, brisking over the tributes in their seats, who are all anxiously waiting for the interviews to begin. As your eyes scan the room, you catch a glimpse of blonde hair—Armin. You were going to wave, but you noticed he wasn’t exactly paying attention—too busy in a hushed conversation with the black-haired District 4 tribute. 

What business do those two have with each other? You’d never admit it out loud, but if you’re already petrified of that girl, Armin should be the last person that would ever want to be that close to her, let alone conversing with her! Well, even though he’s not very strong, that boy does have some brains. What if he’s trying to form an alliance? 

Though, if he were smart, he wouldn’t form one in the first place, because that’s a real easy way to get yourself betrayed and killed.

You don’t have much time to ponder on their business with each other, as you’re snapped out of your thoughts by none other than Levi calling your name. He’s sat in the back row of chairs, of course, being District 12. He’ll be the last tribute of the night to be interviewed, with you going right before him. 

It is hardly a laughing matter, but you can’t help but hold back a snicker at the thought of that boy in front of hundreds of thousands of Capitol citizens attempting to be charming. You imagine he’d give simple yes or no answers, or even be bold enough to ignore the questions entirely.

“Hey,” you whisper, picking up the bottom of your dress to sit beside the raven-haired boy. This time, he isn’t styled identical to you. He is dressed in a charming all black suit with fiery red accents, his hair neatly styled in a slick back. You can’t help but think he looks handsome, though you’d never dare to admit that out loud. 

“What took you so long?” Levi questioned, scooting over slightly to give you more room with your dress. 

You smoothed out the black feathers, exhaling in an attempt to blow out all of your anxiousness. Then, of course, just as you feel your nerves settle, you remember the fact he’s practically betrayed you, going behind your back to get trained on his own! How can he act like everything is normal?

“Hange just had to go over a few things with me,” you simply say, to which Levi gives a small nod. You notice the way he leaned forward, elbows propped up on his knees, nervously fiddling with the ring on his middle finger.

Don’t. Don’t ask. You don’t care.

But he’s anxious. Though, so are you. So is everyone! It doesn’t matter. Don’t ask!

Don’t—

“Are you okay?” you blurt out, your mouth moving as if it had a mind of its own. 

Fuck. Someone needs to cut out your damn tongue.

“What?” Levi is snapped out of his trance entirely, his scowl deepening impossibly more as if you’ve said something absolutely vulgar.

“Nothing.” 

“Fine.”

“What?”

“Idiot, I said I’m fine. You can probably guess crowds aren’t my thing.” Levi admits, now leaning back in his chair in an attempt to get more comfortable, his arms strung over the top of the backrest. 

“Yeah,” you make a noise between a scoff and a laugh. “Not either of our strong suits.”

A jarring voice interrupts your conversation from the television hung on the wall. Darius Flickerman, the man who has hosted the interview for the games for over twenty years, bounces onto the stage with his bright purple wig, styled with a matching purple suit. Really, what is with the Capitol and the ridiculous style?

The massive crowd erupts into cheers, a dizzying blend of colors screaming together. The introduction music blares, and Darius quiets down the noise. “Welcome, welcome, welcome, to the 98th annual Hunger Games!”

As the interviewer addresses the crowd, you watch as the District 1 tributes stand and make their way to the entrance to the stage, the black-haired girl who mocked you in the training center being first to go. 

While the interviews go on, you’re sitting in quiet concentration. This is your chance to get to know the people you’re up against. You finally learned District 1’s names, Pieck and Porco, and from what you observed, the two of them are pretty cocky. Though, what can you expect from careers? 

Next is District 2. Those two aren’t nearly as cocky, although they are clearly strong. The blonde girl, Annie, didn’t talk much in her interview, but the male tribute who you swear is built like an ox, Reiner, presents himself well. District 3’s girl was younger, probably about thirteen. The male tribute for 3 was Armin, and he was great at winning over the crowd.

Following District 3 was the black-haired girl who could rip you to shreds with just her glare, Mikasa. She doesn’t talk much, giving short and simple answers for Darius. He tries to challenge her and make her spill a bit more, but she doesn’t falter. Jesus, it would be one thing if she was eying you out of cockiness, but no, based on the fact she didn’t even try to win over the crowd, she’s even more frightening. 

The District 4 boy, Eren, had a bit more of a personality to present. He seemed cocky, but not as the District 1 tributes were. More confident, you’d say. Darius even brought up their team, complimenting their stylists for the designs this year, as well as pointing out their mentor, who's name you learn is Erwin Smith.

The next few tributes that stood out to you are a boy named Jean from District 7 who was quite the charmer, the tributes from District 8, Gabi and Falco, who are the youngest in the entire pool of tributes, and the pair from District 10, Sasha and Connie, who are from the livestock district. 

Now, you’re face to face with the entrance that goes straight into the stage. The District 11 boy is just about to finish up, and you can’t help but feel absolutely terrified. You’re up next. 

The thought of being in front of hundreds of thousands of people that are betting on whether you live or die is sickening. You feel bile threatening to rise in your throat. You squeeze your hand into a fist, feeling your clammy palms. Your feet feel as if they could give out in your heels, as if you’d topple over yourself the moment you start walking. 

The sound of your name pulls you out of it, and you look to see Levi gesturing toward the entrance to the stage. “What?”

“You’re up,” is all he says, and you swear you could feel your stomach plummet to the ground. 

With a shaky inhale, you try to ground yourself. All you have to do is answer the questions honestly, and if even Valerie said you’re likeable, you might say something that will win over the crowd. All that matters is getting through it. What’s the worst that could happen?

You feel yourself walking forward, as if you were in some kind of dream. You make your way toward the center of the stage, finding your seat beside Darius. You can’t tell if you’ll throw up, pass out, or blank everything out, or all of the above. The spotlight on you is absolutely blinding, and the crowd blends together in a dizzying array of colors that makes you nauseous.

Darius begins speaking, and you try your best to focus on exactly what he’s saying. “Back at the City Circle, that was quite an entrance you made,” he begins, tilting his head in admiration. “I think all of our hearts stopped, I know mine did.”

You force a small smile, gripping the armrests of your chair. You’re fine. Just answer honestly, as if you were talking to Petra. It’s okay. You’re okay.

“I was just hoping I wouldn’t get burnt to a crisp.”

Laughter ripples through the audience, Darius joining in with an easy chuckle. “Well, thank goodness you didn’t! You and your district partner certainly made an impression.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Now, I think we are all dying to know. You had the highest score among all the tributes. Can I ask how you managed an eleven?”

“Well, I—” you started, but stopped yourself before you needed to cut your tongue out yourself for speaking without thinking. You glance at Darius before shaking your head with an almost apologetic smile. “I don’t think I’m allowed to say, am I?”

Through the crowd from one of the balconies, you see the same bald gamemaker that fell into the punch bowl shout out, “no!”

Darius gasps dramatically, clutching at his chest. “Alright then, folks, I guess we’ll never know!” he jokes, earning another wave of laughter from the audience.

Your shoulders relax slightly, but the reprieve is short lived. His next words send a chill through your spine. “On a more serious note, back at the reaping…”

Your heart drops. No.

Darius reaches out, gently taking your hand in his, his expression softening. “You are the first volunteer in District 12’s history. What made you step forward for that girl?”

A pit forms in your stomach. You should’ve known they were going to bring Petra up. Your breath catches as your mind races, scanning the sea of faces for something, someone, to ground you. You manage to spot them in the crowd—Hange, then Hannes, Valerie beside them, all watching intently. Your eyes lock with Hange’s and she gives you a slight nod, encouraging you. 

Be honest. Don’t say too much. You have to keep Petra safe.

You steel yourself, your fingers curling slightly in your lap. “Well,” you begin carefully, “I don’t have much to lose.”

The audience murmurs, their intrigue only deepening. That surely was not the answer they expected nor wanted from you. But you don’t owe them anything.

Darius tilts his head, his brows furrowing before he pushes you more. “Really? I’ve heard you’ve got a sister. Some people say you volunteered because that girl reminded you of her. Is that true?”

Your blood runs cold. What the fuck?

In the midst of your panic, your fingers twitch as you instinctively pull your hand from the man’s grasp before you could compose yourself. Great, now that wasn’t very likeable of you! Though, how could you be likeable when they just asked you about your passed sister? Damn them! Damn Darius and everyone in the Capitol! 

You glance at your team in the crowd, and there’s a split second of hesitation, just enough for you to see them stiffen, their smiles faltering, uncertain of how to guide you through this. You notice Hannes gulp down a huge swig of his alcohol, shrugging as Hange whispers something in his ear.

How could they know about your sister? Let alone, why would they bring her up here of all places? Did they seriously dig that far back into your past? How much do they know? No, calm down! They’re just trying to get a reaction out of you.

Your lips part, but the words don’t come at first. Then, without thinking, they tumble out, sharper than intended. “Had.”

The weight of that single word lingers in the air. The audience is mostly silent, with a few “awes” echoing through the stadium. Fuck them.

“And that’s not true,” you add quickly, forcing steel into your tone. “I hardly knew that girl.”

It’s a lie. A blatant, ugly lie. And you hate yourself for saying it, you know Petra is watching this back home. You can only hope she understands why you had to say it, why you have to protect her, no matter the cost. You know her, and you know she’s kind and selfless. But they don’t need to know that.

Darius blinks, clearly taken aback, but he recovers quickly, pasting on a charming smile. “Well then,” he muses, “I think that was very brave of you.”

The crowd hums in agreement, though the tension still lingers in the air. You force yourself to breathe. You’re okay. 

Darius brightens again, shifting gears. “Your stylist truly outdid themselves this year. Can you tell me more about this dress you’re wearing?”

You seize the change in subject, pushing down the unease still crawling up your spine. “Yes, actually,” you say, straightening your shoulders. “My stylist said she has a surprise in store for us. Would you like to see?”

The audience erupts into cheers before Darius can even answer. He laughs, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Wait, is it safe?” he teases, throwing his hands up playfully. “Well, what do you think, folks?”

The cheers grow even louder, an eager chant building in the stands. You push yourself up from your seat, walking to the center of the stage. The lights shift slightly, dimming just enough to focus on you. You take a deep breath, then turn. Once, then twice, and around you go. The moment you move, the dress ignites.

Gasps echo through the crowd, followed by thunderous applause. The fire spreads along the black feathers, illuminating the intricate details of the design. You knew it, more flames. Hange, you damned genius. Then, the flames flicker and morph. The fire transforms into wings, feathers curling up your arms, shimmering like embers.

You spread your arms straight out, and almost gasp yourself. It’s just like a Mockingjay.

Darius reaches out instinctively, steadying you by the elbow as you regain your balance, fighting the spinning world in your vision. “Woah! Steady, steady!” he laughs, though his awe is evident. You regain your balance, holding his gaze.

“That,” he announces, turning to the crowd, “was extraordinary.” He extends his hand, gesturing toward you with a grand flourish. “Let’s give it up for her, folks! The girl on fire!”

The stadium shakes with applause, the roar of the Capitol deafening. As you retreat toward the backstage, you catch Hange’s eyes on you, giving you an enthusiastic thumbs up. By the time you make it backstage, you watch as Levi brushes past you toward the center of the stage for his interview. You can only imagine how much that boy hates crowds. 

You’re still in a daze for the first part of his interview, catching your breath in your seat. From what you hear, the interview goes as you expected. Levi gives short and blunt yes or no answers, though surprisingly he didn’t ignore any. Probably best not to, anyways. Then, just as you think they’re almost done, the sound of your name catches your attention.

"Your district partner has certainly caught the Capitol’s attention. Brave enough to volunteer along with that outstanding training score. Tell us, what’s it like working alongside someone like her? Is she an asset or a challenge?" Darius asks, eager to know more.

Levi slightly leans back in his seat, his expression unreadable. “She’s not weak, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, not weak at all according to her training score,” Darius agrees, eyes gleaming with interest before prodding some more. “But beyond that, does she stand out to you in any particular way?”

Levi tilts his head slightly, as if considering. How do you even answer that question? The pause stretches just a little too long, enough for the audience to lean in.

“She’s… different,” he starts. “Most people either break or bend when they’re afraid. She doesn’t do either.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“Interesting,” Darius muses, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “So, would you say she’s someone you’d trust in the arena?”

“I don’t trust anyone. But if I had to?” he says, then pauses. The stadium is so quiet with anticipation you could hear a pin drop. “It’d be her.”

A ripple spreads through the crowd, soft gasps, whispers exchanged like currency. The Capitol adores moments like these. It’s exactly what they want, tension wrapped into something they can shape and manipulate. You can see right through it. They’re going to manipulate you two into something you’re not, and it’s going to make you look weak!

“Well, well,” he chuckles, turning toward the audience with a flourish. “Unfortunately, we have run out of time. It seems District 12 has given us quite the pair to watch, wouldn’t you say? Let’s give it up for the male tribute, Levi Ackerman!”

You watch as Levi casually waves into the crowd, exchanging a quick handshake with Darius Flickerman before retreating towards backstage. What the fuck was that?

By the time Levi makes it backstage, the other tributes have departed to their apartments. When the black-haired boy is just about to pass you, you grab him by the collar of his suit, shoving him into the back of a wall. He barely resists, letting you pin him down. The muffled roar of the audience still rings in your ears, but it’s nothing compared to the irritation burning in your chest.

You release his collar with a shove, your glare practically burning holes in his eyes. “What the hell was that?”

Levi doesn’t immediately answer. Instead, he adjusts the stiff collar of his suit like this conversation is nothing more than an inconvenience. “What are you talking about?”

You scoff. “Oh, I don’t know. First, you go behind my back to get trained separately, and then act like everything’s normal. Now, the interview? Didn’t you want to keep your distance? Because it sure didn’t seem like that back there.”

Levi exhales through his nose, clearly unimpressed by your outburst. “It worked, didn’t it?”

You blink, thrown off. “Worked?”

Before he can answer, Hannes strides up behind you, rubbing his temple like he’s been dealing with a headache all night. “You two done having a lovers’ quarrel?” he mutters, shaking his head. “Because I’d love to go to bed without needing to drink an entire bottle of whiskey first.”

You whirl on him. “Hannes, what was fuck that?” you demand, motioning toward Levi. “Why did he—”

Hannes groans dramatically, cutting you off. “Because it made you look desirable! The audience eats that shit up. Tension, a little unresolved something, they love it.” He waves a hand vaguely. “You were already intriguing enough with your training score and that whole volunteering stunt, as well as your dress, but Levi’s little interview sealed the deal. They’ll remember you now.”

You blink, the weight of it settling over you. You knew they wanted you to be likable. You knew the approval of the Capitol, the gamemakers, and the sponsors were everything. But hearing it like this, like a game being played right in front of you, makes your stomach turn.

“It’s strategy,” Levi says simply.

And damn it, he’s right. You hate that he’s right. This stunt, though maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal, had to be what he and Hannes had agreed on during prep yesterday. 

You sigh, rubbing your face. “Fine, whatever. But next time, I’d appreciate a warning.”

Levi shrugs, his gaze flicking past you. “Next time? Let’s survive this first.”

You felt your chest tighten at that. Let’s? Only one of you is making it out of this. And now, for the first time, you truly wish you could do something about it.

Hannes claps his hands together. “Great, now that that’s settled, let’s wrap this up. Eat some dinner, say your goodbyes, get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

Everyone lingers. Valerie offers a surprisingly sincere well-wish, Hannes pats you on the back before heading for a drink, and Moblit nods politely before following Hange off to deal with last minute preparations.

But Hange, she lingers behind.

She doesn’t leave like the others. Instead, she rests a hand on your shoulder, her usual manic energy dimmed just a little. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she says, voice soft. “In the morning, I’ll be the one sending you off.”

You nod, swallowing thickly. Somehow, that makes it all feel more real. The Games are tomorrow. You’re running out of time. Then, you remember your interview, the way they practically used everything they could learn about you against you.

“Hange,” you call out. She stops in her tracks, turning back to face you. “Why did they bring her up?”

Hange must’ve understood who you meant by ‘her’ judging by the way her eyes softened. “My dear, the Capitol will do anything to break you. You just have to stand strong enough to not let yourself be another piece in their games.”

You don’t know what to say. Levi lingers too, standing just a few steps away. For a moment, you wonder if he’s waiting for you to say something. But you don’t. Instead, you just turn and walk away.

Damn the Capitol and anyone that has anything to do with the Games.

-

You were quick to make it back to the top floor of your apartment. You couldn’t help but feel sentimental, knowing this was the last night you’ll truly be safe. Surprisingly, you think you’ll miss hearing the banter between Hannes and Valerie. Tomorrow, you’ll be fighting for your life in an arena in which you don’t know you’ll make it out of. 

You know your team won’t be going with you. Hannes and Valerie will be at the Games Headquarters, hopefully madly signing up your sponsors. Hange will be travelling with you from the very spot you will be launched up into the arena.

You scarfed down as much food as your stomach could possibly handle, even bringing some extra desserts and drinks to snack on before bed. Before you could make a break to your room, your team insisted on saying their goodbyes, even though they might still see you early in the morning before your departure. 

Valerie takes you and Levi by the hand, and with actual tears in her eyes, wishes you two well. She thanks you for being the best tributes to ever have the privilege to sponsor. And then, because apparently Valerie is required by law to say something awful, she adds in, “I wouldn’t be surprised if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year!”

She hurries out of the dining room, and you’re left with Hannes. He crosses his arms and looks you and Levi over.

“Any last advice?” you ask.

“The moment the Games start, make a run for it. Screw everything inside of the Cornucopia, it’ll be a bloodbath. Put as much distance as you can between yourself and the other tributes, and find a source of water. I’ll try to cover your backs with the sponsors.” he says. “Got it?”

“And after that?” Levi questions.

“Stay alive,” is all he says. It’s the same advice he gave you two on the train, but he’s not drunk and mocking this time. And you only nod. What else is there to say?

When you finally depart to your room with hands full of food, Levi stays behind to talk to Hannes. You’re glad. You two can exchange whatever words of parting you might have tomorrow. 

You shower after snacking, having hung up your dress neatly in your closet, scrubbing off all the makeup and fragrances that were meticulously placed onto you today. The warm water feels nice, and you wish you could stay here forever. Away from everything and everyone. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Unfortunately, since those kinds of luxuries do not exist in the world you live in, you finally step out of the shower. You dried yourself off with a fluffy towel, then retreated to your closet to find a robe. You spot your dress, now transformed into something that reminds you so much of a Mockingjay. How can Hange even come up with these design ideas? Like you’ve said—genius. 

You finally roll into bed, and after just about five seconds, you realize you will not be getting a wink of sleep tonight. You know you desperately need it, whatever ounce of energy you can preserve in the arena can make a difference of life or death. The arena. What kind of lands will you be in? Desert? Swamp? Ruins? 

Maybe, God be willing, you will end up in a forest. You know how to hunt and navigate, so you presume that could work. But there are also your fellow tributes, you won’t be alone, you could be stalked like prey with every step you take. 

Now, your heart is racing and you can’t seem to calm it down. You stand up from your bed, smoothing a hand over your face as you exhale and pace the room. Jesus, just rest, won’t you? 

But you know you can’t. You won’t. Your feet practically move on their own, grabbing a plate of leftover dessert and heading straight for none other than the rooftop. Seeing the stars underneath the moon one last night before you’re hunted like an animal would be nice, so you don’t stop yourself. 

The moment you burst through the door to the rooftop, you finally seem to catch your breath, feeling your heart slow as you take in the fresh cool air. Your bare feet track toward the railing, resting your elbows on top as you take in the city lights, taking a chocolate covered strawberry from your dessert plate and popping it in your mouth. There are exhilarating colors, echoes of cheers and laughter from below as the party goers celebrate. 

“You should be getting some sleep,” a voice calls out from behind, though you don’t have to look to know who it is. 

“Shouldn’t you be as well?” you quip back.

A pair of hands grip the ledge beside you. From the corner of your eye, you see Levi lean forward, dark hair falling slightly over his face. For a moment, you consider leaving. Going back to your room, forcing yourself into whatever restless sleep might find you before morning.

But the thought of being alone, of staring at the ceiling with nothing but the weight of tomorrow sitting on your chest, makes your stomach twist. The crisp night air wins, even if you have company.

"I don’t sleep," Levi finally mutters.

You scoff. "Ha, funny."

He pushes off the railing. "Fine then, I’m going back to my room."

"Wait," you say instinctively, your free hand catching his wrist before he can leave. "Don’t go."

Levi closes his eyes, considering for just a moment before sighing, pulling his hand from your grasp. But instead of leaving, he places his hands back onto the railing.

"Alright."

You glance down at the city below, your fingers tracing the patterns of your dessert plate. "I’m sorry I went after you earlier," you say.

“I get it. I might’ve done the same,” Levi says, his gaze not meeting yours as he watches the city, too. Another roar of cheers echo from the streets below, loud enough to hear it clearly from the top floor of the Tribute Center. “Jesus, listen to them.”

"I know." You shake your head, the absurdity of it all settling into something disturbingly familiar. “I just don’t want them to change me.”

Levi’s gaze finally settles on you, his brows furrowed together, laced with confusion. “How could they change you?”

You exhale, glancing away. “I don’t know,” you admit, shrugging. The thought has been gnawing at you for days, but putting it into words makes it feel heavier. “I just don’t want to become something I’m not.”

It reminds you too much of what Hange said earlier, the way she warned you about the Capitol breaking people down, twisting them into pieces that fit their narrative. The idea makes your stomach churn.

“I don’t want to be another pawn in their game.”

Levi hums quietly. A small acknowledgment, not quite agreement, not quite dismissal. You wonder if he understands.

“If I die in there,” you continue, voice quieter now, “I want to die as myself. Does that make sense?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watches you, really watches you, like he’s trying to figure out the weight of your words. Finally, he nods. “Yeah.”

You hesitate before speaking again, letting the words form before you let them out. “I keep wishing I could find a way to show them, to show the Capitol that they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their game.”

Levi exhales sharply, barely a laugh, barely a sigh. “Aren’t we all?”

You blink, considering that. Maybe he’s right. Maybe every person in Panem, at least in the districts, feels the same way, buried under the weight of a system designed to destroy them.

“Maybe,” you murmur. “I don’t know. All I know is that I’m tired of living like this.”

Levi doesn’t say anything else. The two of you watch the night life, cars bustling through the city and parties ongoing at every block. In the morning, just around ten, you will be in the arena with every citizen of Panem watching you and the rest of the tributes on live television, rooting on who they believe should win. 

You’re terrified. Hundreds and thousands of eyes will be on you, watching your every move, either mocking you or cheering for you. It’s hard to believe that in just a few hours you’ll be shipped off to that damned arena. 

Though, for now, you’re okay. Now, you are safe on the rooftop, watching the Capitol. For now, you can breathe. You might as well take in the peaceful moments before they’re stripped away from you. You look at Levi. Maybe talking to him will keep you from getting lost in your own head.

"Why did you do it?"

Levi turns slightly, brow raised. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you decide to train separately?"

His fingers tighten against the railing, and for a moment, you think he won’t answer. Then, after what feels like forever, he exhales sharply. “Because it was the best move,” he says simply. “You needed the sponsors more than I did.”

You blink, thrown off. “What?”

Levi finally turns to face you fully. “They already expect me to be strong. You? You’re different. The Capitol loves a story, and that’s what I gave them. Hannes and I agreed on it.” 

He pauses, his gaze flickering over you like he’s trying to gauge your reaction. “As for the training… it was better to know where we stand before we get thrown into that arena.”

You scoff, shaking your head. Maybe he has betrayed you, after all. “And where do we stand?”

Another pause. The night air feels colder now.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I do know I don’t want to stab you in the back.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “That makes one of us.”

Levi’s gaze sharpens slightly, but he doesn’t argue. He just watches you, as if waiting for you to make the next move. And maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the fact that you want to believe him. You want to believe that not everyone in the Games is out to kill you. Maybe, he doesn’t want you dead, either. 

Absentmindedly, you take another chocolate covered strawberry from your plate and toss it over the edge. It meets the forcefield, flickering slightly before recoiling back, landing somewhere behind you.

"Why do you think they put a forcefield on the roof?" you ask.

Levi shrugs. "To make sure none of the tributes take it upon themselves to be eliminated before the Games."

“Geez,” you wince at the thought. You can’t really blame anyone for that, though. Might be an easier way to go, that or be mauled by someone in the arena. “And do you remember what that boy, Armin, was saying about the forcefield?” 

"Yeah. Why?"

"What do you think he meant by that?"

Levi sighs, rubbing his temple. "Good grief, is this another interview?"

"No!" you exclaim, waving your hands in defense. "I’m just curious."

Levi’s lips twitch slightly. "Who knows? That kid seems too smart for his own good."

"I guess so."

For the next hour or so, the two of you fall into a much more comfortable silence. You snack on the desserts you have left on your plate. You even came up with a game where you throw a strawberry at the forcefield, attempting to catch it when it bounces back. For a little while, it feels like things are normal. 

Though, you know that tomorrow, everything changes. For now, you let yourself pretend that the world isn’t about to fall apart.

Exhaustion finally begins to creep up on you, and you end up saying goodnight to Levi, retreating to your room in an attempt to get some shut eye. You spend the rest of the night in and out of sleep, thinking about all of the possibilities that might come in the arena. Despite your exhaustion, you don’t rest much. 

-

You don’t see Levi in the morning. Hange comes to you before dawn, gives you a simple dress to wear, and guides you to the loading area. Your final dressing and preparations will be done in the catacombs under the arena itself. A hovercraft appears out of thin air and the aircraft opens up, leading to a few seats. Before you get the chance to sit, a woman in a white coat approaches you carrying a syringe.

“This is just your tracker,” she says. You reluctantly hold your arm out, feeling the sharp stab of pain as the needle inserts the metal tracking device deep under the skin on the inside of your forearm. You assume that it’s for the gamemakers to keep track of you in the arena. 

The ride to the arena is quiet. Hange respects your space, and the only thing to distract you was your breakfast, and the barren windows in the hovercraft. When you glance outside, you’re so high up that the trees are just a cluster of specks. This is what the birds must see. Though, the only difference between you being that one is free.

When you arrive, you and Hange are escorted to the catacombs that lie beneath the arena. You’re led into a chamber for your preparation. In the Capitol, they like to call it the launch room, but in the districts, it is referred to as the stockyard. A place where animals go before they’re slaughtered. 

You are instructed to shower by Hange, and when you do, you fight back the urge to throw up the contents of your breakfast. Once you get out, you clean your teeth and change into the outfits all twenty-four tributes will be wearing in the arena. Hange, unfortunately, did not get a say in the design. 

The clothing is nice, though. The jacket’s material is clearly made for cold weather, so you can expect some cold nights. The quality of the boots are better than anything you could get at home with a great fit, good for running. 

You think you’re finished getting dressed when Hange pulls out a familiar pin from her pocket. It’s the gold Mockingjay pin Petra had gifted you. You had almost completely forgotten about it between the chaos of the days. 

“Where did you get that?” you ask.

“Off the blouse you wore on the train,” she says. “I figured you should have it. Though, it barely passed through the review board. Some thought the pin could be used as a weapon, giving you an advantage, which is ridiculous! What could you do with such a small needle?”

You can’t find the right words through your nerves, so all you do is offer her a faint smile while she fastens the pin on the side of your jacket. “Anyways, they eventually let it through. They eliminated a ring from the District 2 girl, though. If you twisted the ring, a sharp metal piece came out, sharp enough to cut through flesh.”

“Why would she even try to bring something like that through?” you question.

“Who knows, darling. Here, walk around for me. Make sure everything fits right.” Hange gives a small shrug, sending you off to walk around. 

You shuffle around, rolling your shoulders back to make sure the jacket wasn’t too confining. “It all fits well.”

“Good then. All we can do now is wait for the call.” Hange says, offering a smile, though you can see the sadness behind it. “Do you think you can eat anymore?”

You decline, but chug down a massive glass of water. You find a seat on the couch, nervously messing with the hem of your jacket. Your palms are growing sweaty, and you can practically feel your heartbeat through your ears. 

No. You’re okay. It’s okay.

Nonetheless, nervousness seeps into terror as you imagine what is to come. You could be dead within the hour, or even before then. On top of that, you are going to watch people die. The same group of people you’ve spent training and prepping with for the past week are all going to die, aside from one lucky victor.

It’s okay. You’re okay.

Suddenly, you feel a hand on top of yours, resting on your knee. You see Hange offer a comforting nod, and you smile. You sit like this until a female voice announces to prepare for launch.

Sixty seconds.

Still clenching onto Hange’s hand, the two of you walk over to the tube that will take you into the arena. “Remember what Hannes said, run and find water. The rest will follow,” she says. You nod, feeling your fingers tremble as you clutch her hand like it was your lifeline. “And remember this. If I could bet on anyone, I would place everything I have on you, girl on fire.”

You feel your lips tremble. “Really?”

Thirty seconds.

“Really,” Hange nods. She squeezes your hand before pulling you into a tight embrace. You can feel your body tremor underneath her hold, though neither of you say anything about it. She only lets go once you hear the glass cylinder to the tube slide open and the female voice counting down the seconds before launch.

Carefully, you step onto the platform, your gaze locked onto Hange’s. “Good luck. Remember, I’m betting on you.”

Ten seconds.

You can only watch as the glass cylinder closes around you, fully encasing you inside of the tube. It begins to lift, and Hange gives you a reassuring nod. Right, get yourself together. Hange disappears from your sight as the platform rises. You’re in darkness for a few seconds, feeling the platform pushing you up into the open air, straight into the arena.

For a moment, your eyes are completely blinded by the bright sunlight, unable to take in your surroundings. As your senses adjust, you’re conscious only of a strong breeze with the hopeful smell of fresh pine trees, accompanied by the sound of rushing water.

A forest.

Then, you hear the legendary announcer, Paladin Templesmith, as his voice echoes all around you. “Ladies and gentlemen, let the 98th Hunger Games begin!” 

───────────────────────────────────────────

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a/n: yippe! interviews are done and we are heading straight into the games! in my outline, we've finished the first out of three "acts" ! i presume there will be about twenty chapters to this fic in total. next up obviously will be the games, and i am so excited to dive into reader and levi's dynamic, as well as start introducing the other characters on a more personal level. i can't wait for you to read it all! thanks for tagging along! <3

taglist: @fleshandbonez @reivelmin @estella-novella @zoozvie @snoopyluver20 @honeybunbunn @jjune-07 @lovetwiyor @levisbrat25 comment and ask to be added!

likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[showstopper35]

Comical Comets - A Texaid Fic

happy birthday @gravedwe11er !! ilysm thank you for being my friend, I hope you like this!

____________________________________________________________

"What did you say?" Ratchet's servos clenched where they were pinned against his hips. Shit. First Aid knew that pose.

"He said, uh, that-" he started before he was interrupted.

"I said I was going to drag First Aid out of here by his neck so that I can rip his aft to scrap," Vortex said flatly.

First Aid's fans clicked on, his face plate heating up as Ratchet stared between him and Vortex.

"Why?" Ratchet asked cooly, crossing his arms now.

"He...uh...." Vortex stalled, the blades on his back spinning once.

"I owe him shanix." First Aid let Vortex clamp a clawed servo over his wrist—tight, uncomfortable, and now familiar. Ratchet raised an eyebrow at First Aid, his usual morose disapproval now mixed with disappointment.

But Ratchet let Vortex drag First Aid out of the medbay because he probably thought First Aid deserved to be beaten to shreds of metal.

Vortex wrenched him harshly by the arm all the way down the hallway, his pedes almost slipping as he took longer strides to keep up with Tex's aggressive stomp-walks. Seriously, the guy always acted like he was walking into a suicide mission or something. Which, granted, he usually was.

"Was that really your excuse? You want to beat me up?" First Aid pulled his arm out of Tex's grasp as they slid into the elevator.

"The hell else am I supposed to say? I need to see you because I like your stupid face and have a surprise? I SHOULD beat you up. It could be fun."

"I hate you." First Aid grumbled.

"That's not what you said last night." came Tex's retort.

"We didn't see each other last night."

"It's an expression! Shut the hell up!"

The elevator doors opened and First Aid was back to being dragged. They were on the top level of the ship, one of the hallways with the big, wide windows that people like Cyclonus and Optimus liked to brood in front of. One of the window ledges had two energon cubes and what looked like binoculars on them. Tex pulled them onto the ledge, and First Aid noticed for the first time how he was anxiously tapping his claws against one leg, his blades occasionally twitching like he was trying to stop them from spinning. First Aid stretches his legs out on the windowsill and looks at Tex curiously. "What's this? A surprise?"

Tex leans over and punches him in the shoulder, just hard enough to sting for a second. He ignore First Aid and gestures to the window. "There's going to be some comets passing by. I heard Blastoff and Onslaught talking about it with that emo astronaut guy."

"Cosmos? He's not emo, just lonely."

"Whatever. Anyway, the comets are supposed to collide with each other and maybe the ship, so it's going to be dangerous and fraggin' AWESOME. And I...uh...wanted to watch it with you."

First Aid decided not to tease him about the sentiment for now, and instead just picked up the binoculars and looked out the window. Streaks of firey gold and white met his vision, dusting across the midnight drapes of space. Two of the comets collide, and he can see tiny pieces of sparkly rock shimmer and scatter.

"Woaaaa." he whispers, optics wide behind his visor. Tex is staring at him, his leg bouncing with nerves or maybe excitement.

"Gimme." He swipes the binoculars from First Aid and zooms in on the comets, which look like tiny, quick-moving stars from afar. Tex lets out a giggle--a genuine giggle--and then his trademark semi-concerning cackle.

"They're exploding EVERYWHERE. Fraggin awesome. Like watching spaceships crash into each other." He's giddy, and it's adorable. In a mildly worrisome way.

First Aid smiles to himself. "Yeah, it's very cool. Thanks for setting this up."

"None of that thanking scrap-OHHH THAT WAS A BIG EXPLOSION!!" Tex does this thing when he's excited where his whole body shakes, back blades rattling softly. It used to concern First Aid, but now he knows it's a happy noise. Plus, his fans weren't exactly being quiet right now. He glances back out the window for a moment, looking at the silver streaks shooting into each other.

"It's kinda pretty too. If you're into that." Tex murmurs, handing him back the binoculars.

First aid looks back at him, their servos brushing against each other as he took the binoculars.

"Yeah. Pretty."

[cherryredstars]

Hi cherry!!!! I was wondering if I could request something with collars and/or pet play? Either Miguel in a collar or reader, whatever you wanna do 😊

I just think he'd be into it, esp seeing reader in a collar. Ik we all headcanon him as being a pretty possessive, & I think he'd enjoy having some kind of physical manifestation of that

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Mentions of Penetrative Sex, Mentions of Handjobs, Possessiveness

Summary: He just wants to help you add to your collection.

Word Count: 835 (Not Edited)

It started out small, simple.

They were cute gifts, things he’d give you spontaneously. Necklaces and rings and bracelets that you mentioned in passing or kept on your online shopping carts. Jewelry that you oh’ed and ah’ed at when the two of you went shopping together. He loved the cute gasp you’d let out, your smile wide and giddy as you asked him to put it on for you. He glowed under the heart eyes you gave him as he slipped the jewelry onto you, parting with a kiss to your neck, knuckle, or wrist. 

It pleased him to please you. To spoil you in riches, real gold and silver. None of that fake shit that you pouted about because they began to break, oxidize, or leave green stains on your skin. Only the finest for his baby. He wanted you to have something to brag about when your friends noticed your new accessories. Made him feel prideful when you would gush about the pieces: Miguel got it for me! Isn’t it stunning? I love it so much! It’s probably the most expensive thing I own!

And it struck something primal in him. Something possessive. Seeing you wear the jewelry he bought you. Wearing his necklaces and bracelets and rings. Things he bought with his money for his precious lover. He couldn’t resist the urge to fuck you with them on. Loved watching the way the necklaces laid between your collarbones, jolting when he thrusted into you. Loved the bracelets wrapped around your wrists, getting a better view of them when he held your hands behind your back. Loved the cool metal of your rings as it glided up and down his cock. The possessiveness progressed and progressed and progressed.

It evolved from plain jewelry to ones with his initial. Bracelets with a dainty ‘M’ charm. Rings with an ‘M’ on one end and a gem on the other. Necklaces with thin chains that come together to hold a rounded plate with ‘M’ ironed into it. Of course, you fell in love with them. Smiling and giggling, and giving him sweet kisses followed with possessive fucking. 

It drove him to go further, to test the limits of what he can get away with. 

He kept it in the bag, a small discreet thing like he did with every other gift. You had pranced over to him when you heard the front door open, giving him that warm smile and covering his face in kisses. He had chuckled when he pushed you away gently, whispering for you to wait for him in the bedroom. You nodded excitedly, going towards the room as he took off his coat and shoes. He was quick to join you, instructing you to close your eyes as he placed the bag down beside you. You simply smiled and did what you were told. 

The tissue paper in the bag rustled lightly as he pulled a velvet pouch from the bag. There was the faint friction of rope as he opened it, pulling out smooth and expensive leather. You had jumped when the coldness wrapped around your neck, breath hitching as you straightened up. Miguel hummed from behind you, tracing the material before flicking at the metal ‘M’ that hung from the center. The leather contrasted well with your skin, and he felt his cock stir the longer he looked. 

“Open your eyes for me, cariño.” He mumbled, kissing the skin right above it.

You did so dutifully, hand coming up to meet the collar around your neck. You gasped again, tracing it before looking back at Miguel. You studied his face, searching his eyes for something before falling to his lips. You stared at him in a daze, something akin to lust beginning to glaze over your eyes as you toyed with his initial. 

“Is this..?” You questioned, sure that you already know the answer. 

Miguel smirked lazily at you, shrugging his shoulders as his own finger traced it. “Go look for yourself.”

He helped you off the bed, holding his hand out for you to grasp. You took it gently, letting him lead you into the bathroom. His arms settled around your waist as he stood you in front of the mirror. Your eyes instantly fell to the collar decorating your neck, eyes hazy as you turned your head to see it from all angles. Miguel’s chin rested on your shoulder, pupils blown in lust as he watched. 

When you got your fill of it, you turned your head to look at Miguel, “It’s gorgeous. Thank you.”

He gave you another lazy smile, humming as his finger slipped in between your collar and skin. You let out a startled yelp when he tugged, making you lose balance and fall into his chest. You were quickly silenced when his lips claimed yours. The kiss hot and heavy, both of you moaning as his hands began to squeeze and need your body. 

“Yeah? Why don’t you show me how thankful you are, cachorro.”

Part 2

[lulublack90]

Prompt 9 - First Anniversary

@wolfstarmicrofic January 9, word count 487

Sirius looked at the watch in the shop window. It was gold with a simple clock face, exactly like Remus would like. It was ludicrously expensive, and Remus was bound to complain. But if Sirius couldn’t spoil his boyfriend on their very first anniversary, then when could he?

Twenty minutes later he was walking out of the jewellery store with the watch in a little bag. He couldn’t wait to give it to Remus. 

Sirius had planned everything out. First, he was going to bring Remus breakfast in bed. Then he’d present him with the watch and probably stay in bed all day.

He got up early to get started, but Remus was already up and sipping a cup of tea while reading his book. 

“Happy anniversary,” Remus said to him, standing up and going to the oven where he was keeping their breakfast warm.

“You remembered?” Sirius asked, his voice a little hoarse as he stared in wonder at his boyfriend. Stuff like this wasn’t Remus’s thing and the fact that Remus had remembered, Sirius felt so much emotion that he wanted to throw himself into Remus’s arms.

“Of course I remembered,” Remus rolled his eyes and pointed at the huge puppy calendar on the wall where today's date had been circled in red pen and proudly proclaimed that it was their anniversary. Sirius jumped into his arms anyway. 

“I love you,” He said, kissing Remus. 

“I love you too,” Remus smiled back at him, carefully depositing him on a chair and getting the plates out of the oven with his oven gloves. 

“I got you something,” He said once Remus was tucking into his food. Remus paused, mouth full of eggs. He swallowed roughly. 

“I got you something, too,” He told Sirius, his hand disappearing into his pocket and taking out a small velvet pouch and passing it to Sirius. Sirius took it, staring at it, his eyes becoming a little misty. 

“Thank you,” He spoke softly. He jumped up and disappeared into the bedroom to retrieve Remus’s gift. He handed over the bag, and together they opened their gifts. 

“Oh, Sirius, it’s beautiful,” Remus gasped, fastening the watch around his wrist at the same time Sirius tipped the contents of the pouch into his hand. 

A watch fell out, and he laughed at how they’d had the same idea. His had a black leather strap and Mickey Mouse on the watch face, his arms acting as the minute and hour hands. He loved it. He immediately put it on and checked it was set to the right time. 

“It’s not much, but I saw it, and it made me think of you,” Remus tried to explain, but Sirius cut in.

“Remus, it’s perfect. I love it,” 

They ate their food as quickly as they could, and then Remus led him by his Mickey Mouse watch back into the bedroom, closing the door behind them.