#i love him but i want to send him into the stratosphere | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satancopilotsmytardis · 7 months ago

Text

Perfectionist

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by @venusshadow86, there is a lot of work that comes with running a terrorist organization, especially one that has been restructured recently. There's even more when their Grand Commander, second-in-command, and frankly, 99% of the upper management have other responsibilities, medical treatments, or knowledge gaps all interfering. But that's fine. Dabi understands what Tomura's vision for the PLF is, and he knows that he can take care of everything that needs to be done while he's away. His lover thinks he's perfect after all.

Content: BDSM, overstimulation, anal sex, anal fingering, cock cages, cock warming, multiple orgasms, prostate orgasm, sex toys, praise kink, double penetration, dacryphilia, handcuffs, creampie, subspace

Word Count: 12567

"Tomura!" His whole body goes so hot as his lover fucks into him at the perfect angle to have his hands twisting up around the chain of the handcuffs that are keeping him from burning his handprints into his back... again. Tomura keeps moving like that, his lips moving across his jaw and his hand snaking between their bodies so that he can stroke him in that same rhythm.

"I know, baby," He purrs, stroking his cock like he hadn't run a vibe along him for an hour while he was in his cockring and he's not already aching and sore. The sharpness of that overstimulation has him sobbing weakly, pulling at his chains and shaking his head.

"No, no, sir!"

"You can take it, precious." And he doesn't give him the chance to not, he forces his body to keep building that pressure and pleasure as he rapidly approaches his crescendo. "Show me how much you love to break for me."

He really doesn't have a choice about that now. All Dabi can do is let out another loud moan as his insides tighten and his cock pulses with pleasure as he spills his release between their bodies. Each subsequent thrust from his lover as he licks away the bloody tears on his cheeks is a sharper echo of his bliss that he doesn't want to lose. He tightens his legs around his waist and lets his head fall back against the pillows as he trembles and gives soft little gasps and whimpers as that is dragged out into the sharpness from before until his lover's hips drive deep and still and Dabi is wet with his cum too.

And he floats.

///

It takes him a while to come down from the high of that. Technically it wasn't nearly as long as some of their other scenes, but the intensity of it was enough to send him into the stratosphere even though they couldn't linger and indulge. Couldn't linger because when Dabi starts to come back, Tomura is still gentle in getting him cleaned up, in making sure that he has water, a snack, and as many cuddles, words of affirmation, and kisses as Dabi wants. But he doesn't settle himself. He can't, because this was a stolen reprieve. Duster has to leave when he's back to normal, and Dabi petulantly tries to cling onto him for longer than he should. He knows that Shig has to go back to the doctor tonight if he wants to stay on schedule for his treatments. This was all he could give him outside of their work to tide him over for the two weeks he's going to be gone this time as they build to his inevitable four-month absence.

He tightens his arms around Shig's waist, hiding his face against his side. "When do you need to leave?"

"Whenever I feel like it." He only doesn't tell him a time because he's definitely already gone past the time he was supposed to head back. He wouldn't have deflected for any other reason. He strokes his hand through his hair and Dabi holds on for another few breaths before he sighs and lets go of him, rolling onto his back instead and throwing an arm over his eyes.

"'m fine, Shig. Not gonna drop if you need to go."

"Do you really think I'd rush to spend more time with the doctor instead of you, firefly?" His lover shifts over him again, pushing back his bangs so that he can press a kiss to his forehead, then one to his nose, and finally a gentle one to his lips.

He doesn't want to sound petulant. Tomura adores him. He'd been open about that long before Dabi had even registered that he could be interested in Shigaraki. He knows that he's going to get the treatments because AFO made him his successor in a far more literal sense than any of them had initially known when it comes to his strange quirk. Duster needs these advancements if he doesn't want to tear his body apart again like he had in Deika. But it doesn't mean he doesn't loath having to be without him for days or weeks at a time while he gets treated. And it's going to be weeks this time.

Dabi takes his arm away from his face so that he can thread that hand through Tomura's hair instead. No mistaking the soft look in his eyes for anything but pure adoration. And he's going to miss it fiercely when he's gone and alone in their too-big bed. "...Put my cage on before you go?"

The request immediately has that affectionate look getting a little hotter as Duster leans in to give him another kiss, licking into his mouth this time and not stopping until Dabi is breathless. "Are you sure, baby boy?"

"Wanna be good for you while you're gone," and if he's wearing that, then when Tomura comes home, he'll be immediately in for a reward when they've caught up on work.

"You're always good for me, firefly. Perfect." It puts something heavy and warm in his chest because Tomura means that. He's perfect to him. His broken quirk, his twisted skin, none of it matters. Tomura thinks he's perfect. He loves him. Dabi does his best to stay perfect for him to show his love in turn.

Duster gets his cage, the metal birdcage instead of the silicone one this time. He likes them both, but the snugness of the silicone can make it uncomfortable against his piercings for an extended period of time. Dabi holds still as he's slipped into it and the ring is locked in place around his balls. It's a more solid weight and it's going to take him a few hours to adjust, but he can go to bed after Shig departs. He gets a few more kisses and honey-sweet words against his skin before Tomura makes sure he knows where the emergency key is, gets dressed, and leaves. Dabi turns off the lamp on the nightstand and curls himself deep into their sheets that are still warm with their shared heat and the scent of his lover's body.

///

Dabi wakes the next morning about an hour before dawn and climbs out of bed. The one indulgence that he'd picked for their room was the minifridge that is in the corner and he only bothers to go to the bathroom and put on his workout gear before he goes over to it and gets one of the caffeinated protein shakes inside. He drinks that as he heads out of their room and past the others in this wing of base that the League claimed for themselves. On his way he pops in his earbuds and loads up one of the lectures that he's downloaded onto his phone. He'd missed out on so much schooling, and in this environment, he doesn't want anyone to notice. He doesn't mind people thinking he's flippant, but he dropped the 'dumb thug' act in front of the League ages ago and he does not want anyone undermining his authority because they think he's stupid. So he found an online, self-guided education program and has been making his way through it for the past two months. He'd started with the year of schooling that he'd died at, but he's nearly up to a tenth year now.

He finishes his breakfast and starts his workout, training in the gym without using his quirk. Now that he and the League have access to regular food, proper training equipment, and relative safety, he's been doing his best to build back up his physical health after years on the streets. His quirk will destroy his body, he knows that it will when he stands in front of his father, but the stronger he is now, the faster, more agile, more muscle he has on him before then, then the longer he'll be able to stave it off and run out his father's clock until he overheats and Dabi can finish them both off.

An alarm goes off half an hour after sunrise and he heads back up to his room to shower, brush his teeth, and get ready for the rest of the day. When they have a lieutenant's meeting first thing in the morning, he usually just orders one of the grunts to bring breakfast for them, though that ends up being something simple and quick to eat along with coffee for everyone. But when they don't have their first meeting until later, Dabi goes to their kitchen and throws something together. It's never much, just a rolled omelet and rice, or miso soup, onigiri, toast and cut fruit, something that doesn't take him too long to make while he finishes his audio lessons for the day. He already has leftover dashi in the fridge so he goes with omelets and rice today too. By the time he's nearly done, he starts to make coffee. Dabi is not a coffee snob, not really, but he does think that Spinner's preference for instant is somewhat insulting to the big beautiful coffee maker that they have now that can foam milk and everything. Toga likes hers iced and blended, a double shot of espresso with sweet cream and chocolate shavings on top. Twice likes his iced with a ton of cream, caramel flavoring, mocha syrup, and whipped cream-- or he likes a straight shot of espresso depending on if he or his contradictions are making the order. Dabi usually just makes him both to save himself from having to worry about it, pulling the shot as soon as he starts to hear him in the hall. Compress is a fucking heathen and actually likes an Americano and will defend the fact it's just a watered down shot of espresso. Sure his drink of choice is currently a flat white, but at least his espresso isn't literally watered down.

By the time everyone's sat down, Toga and Spinner usually still in their pajamas, Dabi's finished his lesson and tucked his earbuds away.

"Thanks, Dabi." They're always happy to see whatever he's made when they arrive, and Dabi always shrugs it off. Now that they're here, they really only see each other around meals, if they can, and during meetings. It's a far cry from how much time they were spending together when they had nothing, so he makes some time for this as often as he can. Besides, he knows they will absolutely just indulge in whatever they want now that they have the luxury of doing that, and he does not totally trust Spinner and Toga to not just go overboard with junk. Twice too if he's hanging out with her because she's a terrible influence. At least if he cooks breakfast then he knows they're getting one mostly-balanced meal into them before they get on with the rest of their day.

They eat and when they're done, Dabi cleans up, if they don't have a meeting, then they all go their separate ways unless other work brings them back together again. But they do have a meeting this morning, so while the others go to finish getting ready for their day, Dabi goes back to his and Tomura's room, retrieves his laptop, and heads to the meeting room. He goes through all of the emails between this meeting and the last that he's been CC'd on and makes sure his notes for topics to address are clear and organized, and he ensures that the meeting agenda that Re-Destro composes isn't missing any topics that might need to be more thoroughly discussed.

He doesn't actually do much talking during the meeting aside from nudging it this way or that, ensuring that he's got the session recording on his phone both so that Tomura can listen back to it, and so he can as he compiles any information that needs to be shared between regiments. The lieutenants are all technically in charge of keeping their people up-to-date, but he wants things idiot-proof and always makes sure to send a write-up after the meeting ends so that no one forgets anything that they're supposed to do.

Once the main meeting is finished, if Re-Destro isn't needed back at Detnerat for more meetings on that side of the PLF, he and Dabi usually have one to make certain he knows what's going on and how to adjust the schedule for when he's gone as well as Shig. He spends an hour with him today setting things up. He's going to be away from base for a week, and Skeptic will only be around for two days as they take care of some kind of corporate bullshit that goes over Dabi's head that he pretends doesn't.

When he's done with that, it's usually around afternoon and he has another protein shake before he goes out to deal with Geten and giving combat training to their members, both new recruits and old, he's not content with the disorganized bullshit that they saw when they took Deika. The only reason they managed to hurt them as badly as they did was because the MLA had such higher numbers than they were expecting. Only their lieutenants had real combat and quirk training, and that is absolutely not enough. Dabi does not want these members to be nothing more than a larger number of no-name villains like the ones that Shigaraki lost at the USJ on his debut as a villain. No. He wants them all trained, and he doesn't want them dying or severely overworking their quirks to do it.

Which is what Geten had them doing when Dabi hadn't been joining in to oversee these sessions. He also marks out particularly unique quirks for Shigaraki and Ujiko. Aside from the high-ends, which did come with a conversation and active consent from those members, they're not actually harvesting quirks from their people or using them for run of the mill nomu-fodder. But Dabi does want notes to be made because they are gearing up to start a war, and in a war, people die. They have the good fortune of having the doctor around who could turn their dead, and dead heroes, into more soldiers for their forces. So Dabi keeps a log to ensure that if any promising soldiers die, they can be made into one of the better versions of nomu when they go.

Training with Geten usually lasts two to three hours, and afterwards Dabi goes to hang out in one of the common areas of the villa. He sticks around in the open with his laptop, writing reports and answering emails, and he does it there and not in one of the offices they've been given, because when he sits in common areas, people become used to him, his scars, his attitude. And slowly, over the past few months, they have started to also know him as the lieutenant to go to if they think something needs to be talked about or changed. Sure, the MLA had a long history and Destro's teachings held a fanatical reverence for a lot of the people who joined. But now things are different. And because they're different, those devout are also starting to see other things that maybe should be different too. Sometimes it's as small as the fact that the grocery delivery used to come on Tuesdays, which was not convenient because it was a delivery for the hundreds living here in the mountains and there were usually pallets of things that needed to be unloaded. And because most of their members are normal, functioning members of society, that meant there weren't enough people to unload the trucks, turning it into an all-day affair that ground things to a stop. So Dabi switched deliveries to Fridays instead. Still a weekday, but he also added an extra pallet of alcohol to the deliveries, so that when everyone got back from their day jobs, they would be more interested in lending a hand to get things unloaded quickly so that they could indulge to kick off their weekends. It worked, and everyone suddenly liked and trusted him and the rest of the League a little more since their takeover.

And sometimes it's something more complicated. Finding out that they're having a hard time actually getting costumes on the scale they need them despite putting an entire factory towards the task is a headache. The woman who brings it to his attention winces as she tells him, and he's pretty sure it's because she knows how bad that is for their timeline and that something like this is really going to be a mess to deal with. He thanks her and sends her off, he would rather know now than wait for things to get worse and more backed-up. It is a nightmare though, and one he has to deal with on a truncated timetable given Re-Destro is going to be unavailable for a long while once he departs. The issue is coming down to getting accurate measurements, and many costumes needing alterations because of the bad self-reporting. So Dabi goes back to their wing to find Jin.

He's in their personal common area, hanging out with Toga and Spinner who are having a racing tournament on their new console.

"Hey Twos, gonna need you to put your specialty to good use." He explains the issue and also forwards him a spreadsheet of everyone they're supposed to have costumed by the end of this quarter and how far behind they are. Jin listens,

"You got it, Dabs! No way, what a snooze," And Dabi hopes that's that. Jin will have the most accurate measurements for people, and once he's taken all of the ones that he needs to for the backlog, hopefully he'll go to the factory so he can use his doubles so that the altercations can get made without needing to pull their actual soldiers from their work.

When everyone else is winding down for the evening and starting to talk dinner, Dabi usually just orders something easy to be sent to his and Tomura's room. He eats while he finishes the actual worksheets, essays, and other homework that he has to do for the day, which usually takes him till around eleven. Then he goes to shower again after training again in the afternoon.

As he's leaning against the wall of the shower he looks down at the cage that is gleaming against his skin and sighs softly. Perfect. He can be perfect for his lover.

He dries off, brushes his teeth, applies medicine to his seams and staples, and then goes to get into bed. He makes sure that he sets his alarm for tomorrow morning and finally lets himself sleep.

///

The next day is the same, though instead of meeting with Re-Destro, he ends up having to help Jin actually get all of the people he needs to see scheduled to take their measurements because otherwise he's totally lost on where to even start with the large number of them and all of their conflicting schedules as well. And when he goes to train with Geten, he discovers that the ice user has fucked off back to whatever other mountain top he feels like now that Re-Destro and Shigaraki aren't around to tell him that he has to train these people that he sees as subhuman because their 'meta abilities' are too weak to make them worth the ice under his boot. It's great to know that he gets that kind of quirk superiority bullshit from both sides of his family tree-- though he's been very careful not to let on they're related somehow once he learned Geten's last name. Which leaves him to do the full lesson by himself. He manages it, but it would have been easier if he had a secondary instructor with him too. Whatever. He gets it done.

When he goes to sit in the common area, he is immediately hit with the news that the Hearts and Minds party is in the middle of dousing a scandal caused by one of Trumpet's employee's misconduct in the workplace that seems to have escalated to stalking. Dabi has met the kind of people who worship Trumpet through his quirk. He one-hundred percent believes the dude did it, and unfortunately that means that PR mess is going to take up valuable time from campaigning and may impact their recruitment numbers. Fuck.

He goes to find Toga then, given she's part of the recruitment squad and finds her sitting on the couch in their common area with her laptop perched on her knees.

"Did someone already tell you about Trumpet's situation?"

"Yeah..." but the tone of her voice is a little hesitant and Dabi leans his elbows against the edge of the couch.

"Yeah?"

"I guess I don't get it. Like, I mean if his employee did it, won't he just get fired and arrested? Why is everyone making such a big deal about it?"

And he is sharply reminded she's a teenager, and one who didn't have that much interest in politics or anything besides whatever trends she pretended to like to keep her peers from being scared of her. And, eventually, Stain. But he wasn't exactly talking about PR scandals when he was making his own manifesto online. "When one person does something bad and they're working for someone with power, people usually think that the person with the power was okaying it. Even if that wasn't the case, now Trumpet's gotta suck up to the press to try and prove that he didn't have anything to do with it. No matter what, people will trust him less and that will mean it'll be harder for him to recruit. So you're gonna have to try to step-up, princess."

"I don't know how to do that when I can't even show my face!" She whines, blowing out a breath up to ruffle her bangs.

Dabi spends the rest of the afternoon trying to help her figure out how to recruit on her end, aiming for a younger demographic than those who would be lured in by the Hearts and Minds party. It's a long process because she is too eager to try and find anyone instead of looking for people who they can actually use to grow their goals. He tries to teach her to spot people who are high value, but not potentially dangerous and who might out their goals. He teaches her to go on forums and social media and try to vet people, showing her how to track down those who might have an ulterior motive based on the company they keep or political views they may have expressed in the past. He does his best to educate her the way he'd educated himself growing up on the streets looking for any places he could find a home that had anti-hero and anti-police sentiments that would let someone stick around so long as he didn't cause any obvious trouble.

She gets frustrated after a few hours as she starts to realize how hard vetting people can be, and he agrees to set aside some time tomorrow to help her learn to navigate the other databases that Trumpet has compiled for PLF use of potential businesses and other high-priority potential recruits. He actually doesn't know how to navigate those completely himself either, but he'll figure it out tonight and give her the rundown tomorrow. She also gives him puppy eyes until he caves and makes them all dinner, sitting down to eat with them and shoot the shit for an hour or two before he heads back to his room.

He still has homework and other work to wrap up, and the math and history tests he needs to do are difficult and take an hour each. He does not understand what the point of proofs are and he's going to have to find a way of burning the physical concept of math. But he does manage to get them finished and then he spends another two hours learning Trumpet's absolutely massive database as well as he can so that he can at least get Toga started tomorrow.

By the time he gets to bed there's only three hours left until he has to get up again to start his day. He curls up tight, shoving his face into Tomura's pillow and takes the sleep that he can get.

///

The next day he helps Toga, though he does make her sit down in the open common area with him in case some other problem arises that needs his attention. It's not a surprise, but not a welcome inevitability when one does. Two of the mid-tier grunts come to him asking about some supply chain issue, to which he directs them to Compress or Spinner since those two are in charge of that division when it comes to making sure that they have what they need to actually wage their war. It's only then he finds out that Mister left to deal with a different issue and isn't in the building, and probably won't be back for a day or two, and the reason they're coming to him is because Spinner hadn't been able to give either of them a definitive answer. He considers the check-in earlier, what he knows about everything being moved, and gives them a temporary solution before leaving Toga to do her work and going to find Spinner himself.

He finds the other in the hall going up to their wing and asks about it, and the gecko man shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. "They both seemed important so I told them to just split the team and handle both?"

Which is a fine compromise-- but not for something like this that needs swiftness to be done effectively. As much as they like working and planning here like the war will come on their terms, it could be at their door in minutes instead of months. Deciding whether medical supplies are more available over shelf-stable rations is important, and having some, but not enough of either will only make their fights harder. In this case, immediate survival needs should come first and the team should be moved into place to get that sorted out as effectively and efficiently as possible, only then moving to the next task if they have the luxury of time. Sure it will suck if their soldiers are dying of their injuries and infections. As someone who is predisposed to illness because of how bad his skin is, Dabi really doesn't want to face the reality of not having medicine readily again. But an army that is starving is an army that fails. He doesn't really mean to give Spinner a lecture, but he's listening and he's going to have to handle these decisions by himself for the next few days while Compress is gone, so he would rather have this conversation now than have to put out fires later.

When he finishes with Spinner and goes back downstairs, Toga is off talking to some of the other members. Socializing instead of working, and as much as Dabi does want to get her back to her regiment work, she and Twice are the best with the grunts. They have golden retriever-like charisma that keeps them happy and not thinking about how many of their friends and family they killed in Deika, so he resigns that to technically being part of her job and leaves her to it.

And he goes back to work.

///

Technically, given the corporate structure of the PLF that echoes the structure of the MLA before it, they're supposed to have the weekend off. But he usually takes the time to finish as much of his coursework as he can, catch up on any information he can find out about Endeavor, or--

"Pidgeon." He drawls lazily as the hero swoops onto the rooftop of the warehouse a few meters from him.

"Hey, hot stuff," Hawks drawls with a lazy smile and mocking salute. He does lazy poorly. Dabi doesn't understand how he's cultivated that image for himself when he is clearly so driven and has the sharp eyes of the predator whose name he shares. Dabi is a lot better at faking lazy. It's not just about the drawl or the look, it's about cultivating the worst expectations of everyone around too. No one thinks someone who is stupid, or pretentious, or gluttonous can be driven and hard-working in a way they find admirable, because they don't want to see anything positive in them.

Hawks is easy to trick into underestimating him because he always leads him to believe the worst of him. He's the arrogant, thuggish oaf who has control over the recruitment process, and now that he has Hawks on a leash, he's constantly looking to exert his superiority over him. He teases him with information that he thinks Hawks is too stupid to put together on his own-- and Hawks believes it because Hawks doesn't think that a man like him can be more clever than himself. Even though Hawks has never once been able to fool Dabi into believing his façade.

"You got the files?"

"Course I do, don't tell me you still think I'd show up empty handed?" The hero shows his hand just by bringing up, however vaguely, that Dabi has doubted him in the past. He wants to know why he's being held at arm's length, and Dabi hasn't budged. The HPSC has even stopped doctoring a lot of the information he's asked for. And he's asked for just about anything. But nothing that they needed. He's been meticulous in trying to figure out what to ask for from the hero. He doesn't want survivor's bias, which he only learned about recently in his studies, to give him away. Instead he's asked for nearly everything he can from the hero. He picks it at random, acts more excited or more disinterested on the flip of a coin. He lets himself be inconsistent so that Hawks never quite has anything solid he can hold onto. And it's been frustrating the hero to no end as the HPSC is starting to doubt he's even still running with the League. They think he may just be an idiot trying to coast by on their two public jobs and he lets the hero think that.

He puts a lot of effort into being as lazy as the hero barely pretends to be. It's good to see it paying off.

///

Of the people that Dabi thought would have a fire for him to put out, if there would be one at all, he did not expect it to be Compress rushing up to him about thirty seconds after he stepped back into the villa. He hasn't even made it upstairs yet to change out of his old gear and get into something cleaner and more comfortable after two days on the streets again to make sure the bird wouldn't be able to tell that he's got more funds than he thinks he does. But Mister is right there and without and arm--

"Uh-?"

"I had a bit of a mishap," the older villain says, huffing slightly himself. "I noticed some squeaking and attempted to take off one of the panels so I could make sure everything was alright, and had a catastrophic failure when a loose screw inside got pulled into the gears."

"Shit, you okay?"

"I'm fine, but I need to go visit our mechanic to get everything working again."

Shit. "Okay, when?"

"Ideally now," Compress informs him. "I don't want to cause a delay, and if Twice were here--"

But he's at the factories still making sure that supply line is good. "Yeah, but medical shit comes first. Why were you waiting on me?" Because he really didn't need to if he was going to go and get treated and get a new prosthetic.

"I know that you're already busy, but I was hoping you could keep an eye on the incoming requisition requests and organize them for me? That way I can take the highest priority requests and see to them as soon as I return."

He doesn't say that technically that should be Spinner's job. They both already know it, but given Spinner's inability to make those kinds of calls was put on such stunning display a few days ago, Dabi understands why Compress would come to him instead. "Yeah I can do that, Mister."

"Thank you, Dabi, I'll try to be back in a day or two."

"Got it," he gives a half-hearted wave as he starts to head upstairs, wanting to shower, finish his homework, and go to bed in an actual bed for the first time in a few days. He makes it about two steps onto their floor before Toga spots him and comes bounding over beaming,

"Dabi! What about using social media to recruit?" And he pivots towards the coffeemaker, knowing he won't be sleeping for a long while.

///

He loses track of the days. No, that's not quite it. He knows the day and date, he has to because if he doesn't, then he wouldn't be able to keep up with all of his responsibilities, but he doesn't even notice when two weeks have come and gone. He just sees that his lover is in their room one morning when he comes back in from his morning workout and gives a soft sigh of relief. Tomura immediately has a smile for him, pausing him on his way to the shower to give him a kiss.

"Missed you, firefly."

"Missed you too, Duster. Give me a minute and I'll get the write-up for you."

"Don't you want to go clean up?"

"I can shower while you're reading." He says and he goes over to his laptop. It takes about twenty minutes for him to get everything compiled even though he's already been doing his best to keep up with it, he just wanted to go through all of the reports and flag things that he thinks his lover should take a closer look at and what he should know before they go into the meeting in an hour. The rest he can read later.

He goes to shower then and when he's finished, he gets dressed and Tomura joins him on the way to the meeting, switching seamlessly over to their work. They go to the morning meeting and even though their Grand Commander is back, it doesn't change Dabi's routine. He still has all the same responsibilities as he did before, he just gets to get a kiss from Tomura before he goes off to continue his work. And he gets another when they have lunch. And after dinner, when they're back in their room, Duster goes back to finishing up all of the overseeing that he needs to and Dabi does as much homework as he can possibly finish during that time. He still doesn't make it through as much as he wants before his lover moves up behind him and starts to press kisses along his neck and shoulder.

"Were you good while I was gone, pretty boy?"

But he's not about to deny him when it's been two weeks and he's wanted him every second he was gone. "Yes, sir."

"Show me, baby."

He doesn't actually let Tomura take off his cage. He's been good and he's been working hard, and that means he's earned a reward. So instead, Dabi asks if he can get on his knees tonight, and he lets himself relax for a little while as he cock warms his lover, Tomura's hand stroking his hair gently and telling him as many praises as he can find words for. Dabi doesn't really know what it means when he starts crying halfway through, before he's even coaxed his lover to fuck his throat, but thankfully he does cry often enough in bed that Duster doesn't think that there's anything wrong. He still thinks that Dabi is perfect as he wipes away the crimson tears from his cheeks and dribbles of cum from his chin as he pulls him close and holds him as he shakes and sniffles as he comes down from his high.

///

Tomura gets to stay home for five days this time before the doctor wants him back, which is great. Dabi shifts around his schedule a little so that he can be certain that Duster has everything he needs to ensure that he can catch up on everything that's happened while he was gone, as well as get ahead enough he can give Dabi and all of them his orders when he needs to leave again. The fires he's managed to put out while he was gone earn Dabi some additional praise which helps to soothe some restlessness in himself he keeps noticing off-hand. But he's still busy. Nearly every hour of his day is already dedicated to something, and spending time with Tomura on top of all of that, even though he loves him, starts to feel like just another task that he has to make time for if he wants to remain worthy of his love in turn. It puts a strange, uncomfortable strain on the edge of his mind and he keeps trying to shake it and be happy that his lover is home.

But he keeps flinching whenever they're alone together because there's so much for him to do. He ends up feeling like he's avoiding Duster just so he can be certain that he gets everything he needs done.

Which makes it particularly uncomfortable when he realizes that after three days of being home, Duster seems to be almost following after him and trying to see what he's doing. Checking up behind him on his work without actually speaking to him. But Dabi notices how his lover seems to arrive places just before he departs, going to talk to the people Dabi spoke too, a frown slowly setting in across Tomura's features and growing more pronounced each time they pass each other. It has him nearly smoking when he ends up letting the others fend for themselves for dinner that night in favor of going back to their room, unable to do anything else but pace as he waits for his lover to return. He's fuming when the door handle turns and Duster comes into the room. Before he can even speak, Dabi's temper and tongue are flying ahead of him.

"What the fuck is your problem, Shigaraki?"

He has the audacity to blink at him like he's the one who's being unreasonable. "Dabi--"

The placating tone does the exact opposite, nearly making Dabi ignite, actually making him hot enough under the collar that he tosses his coat over the chair at the desk as he whips around to snarl, "I've been doing everything you could possibly want! I'm keeping the soldiers in our regiment trained and on a schedule-- even when Geten fucks off for his own training! I've been teaching Toga how to take over recruitment now that Trumpet is out of the building! I've been cleaning up Spinner's messes when he's too indecisive and untrained to make the hard calls. I covered for Compress when he was hurt. I made sure that Twice's job was organized so that his condition wouldn't cause him or the organization any issues. I've been keeping up with Detnerat and the rest of the PLF for Re-Destro and you! And-- And--" Oh. Dabi doesn't know when he stopped yelling and his voice broke. When he started to cry and his limbs went so heavy with complete misery and exhaustion. But he feels like he can barely stand as a sob bursts from his throat.

He's not smoking anymore, just crying, so Tomura comes into his space and pulls him close. Dabi wants to stay angry, he wants to demand to know what he could have possibly done wrong to earn the other's scrutiny, but he can't find his words through the choked, heavy sobs that are coming out of him. Instead he finds himself clinging to Tomura's suit jacket and staining it with his tears as he cries and cries.

///

It takes a long time for him to stop, and his face hurts so badly when he manages it that Tomura has to go get him some medicine, an ice pack, and replace two of the staples under his eye seams. Then he makes Dabi go take a shower and they both get into their pajamas before he pulls Dabi close on the bed again, holding him and stroking his hair and along his arm as he hides his face against his lover's chest like that will protect him from having to find out how badly his meltdown ruined everything.

But they can't stay like this forever, and eventually, Dabi makes himself mumble, "...I'm sorry."

The hands don't stop petting him. "Are you ready to talk now, firefly?"

He's not sure he'll ever be ready to know how much he's let Tomura down, but he would rather tear the band-aid off now so that he can start working towards making amends again instead of lingering in his misery. So he nods slightly and waits.

"Dabi, I wasn't double-checking your work because I wasn't happy with it." He says gently. "I was worried. You've gotten so much done since I left, and I see how hard you've been working just for the past few days. The others said that you've been drinking a lot of caffeine, and I already saw how little sleep you're giving yourself. Baby, I wasn't following you around to chew you out for not getting enough done. You're doing more than enough. I was trying to see if you're actually giving yourself any time to rest."

Dabi doesn't say anything for a minute before he mumbles. "How am I supposed to do that? There's so much to do, and no one else is--" He stops himself and shuts his mouth. The others are trying. They're working, and he only sees them for a short while each day. He can't speak to what they're doing when he's not around. It wouldn't be fair of him to discredit whatever else they might be doing when they're out of his sight. And worse, "And when you're not here-- someone has to make sure that everything is perfect."

There's another long pause and the hands petting him do actually stop this time as Tomura hears what he said and considers those words. "Firefly, that's not your responsibility." And his voice is sad when he says it, the hand on his arm moving to catch his chin and tilt his face up to him. Dabi doesn't really want to, but Shig actually has his gloves on for once, which means he's already trying to be extra careful with how fragile he feels right now and he doesn't want his lover to think it will be any worse or more than it already is. "Dabi, I only took over the MLA so that we would have the resources so that none of us would be expected to bite off more than we can chew. I wanted to make sure that we would be able to prepare for this war without burning ourselves out before the fighting even started. You don't have to do the jobs of ten other people. That's not how this is supposed to work."

Dabi tries to backtrack, "I'm fine, Duster. I can do this--"

"You don't have to, Dabi. I don't want you to--" Tomura knows it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it's out of his mouth because the way the words hit his ears, and how he flinches, makes Dabi think it would have been less cruel if his partner just decayed him from the heart out. "I don't want you to be so overworked that you're falling apart." He elaborates more gently. "It's not about what you're capable of doing, I know that you could turn the entire world to ash. It's about making sure that you're healthy and happy, and that you have a balance between what you're doing for yourself and what you're doing for work." He shifts his hand, moving from his chin to his cheek, frowning a little more at how bad he's sure the seams under his eyes look after crying for so long before. "And until we figure out a better way of doing that, I think you should take a break."

The fact that his eyes hurt so badly is the only reason that he doesn't start to cry again. It still takes him a second to croak, "Yes, sir." Even though it feels like he's being scraped raw as he says it.

"You're not being punished, precious," Tomura promises him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I'm so grateful for everything you've managed to stay on top of while I've been gone. But now it's time for you to rest. Alright, baby boy?"

It still feels like a punishment, even when Tomura doesn't make him talk anymore and holds him close until he falls into a fitful sleep.

///

When he wakes next it's early and he automatically starts to get up, wanting to catch up on the lesson that he missed the night before because of his meltdown and talk with Tomura, but when he sits up to get out of bed he finds that his lover is already up and sitting on their couch, the coffee table is covered in files and folders, and he's got both of their laptops open in front of him. Tomura hears him shift to the edge of the bed and looks back at him,

"Did I wake you, baby?"

"No, what--"

"You skipped dinner last night, are you hungry?"

"No--"

"Okay," and Tomura gets up, leaving the papers as they are and coming over to the bed. Dabi's head feels like it's swimming a little as he is pulled back into bed and Tomura holds him close again. "It's still early. Stay with me until sunrise?" He asks.

And after last night, Dabi is absolutely helpless to do anything that goes against his lover's wishes. "Yes, sir." He can wait until sunrise. It's just another hour or so away. He curls up against his chest and lets out a soft sigh, just closing his eyes to wait.

///

When he wakes up again, Dabi feels like death warmed over. He's somehow more exhausted than when he woke up this morning, his eyes are crusty, his seams beneath still ache from crying last night, his mouth tastes like something crawled into it and died, and his limbs are full of a solid, heavy warmth that only comes from running too hot for too long while he was asleep, something that usually only happens when he's sick or when he's slept for a very long time.

He can't afford either of those but the clock on the nightstand tells him that it's past two in the afternoon. Dabi scrambles out of bed, rushing to the bathroom to clean up and get ready for his very belated start to the day. He's half dressed and scrambling to find his laptop that he knows Duster had last night, but that is nowhere to be found in their room, nearly crazed, when his lover walks back in with one arm full of more files, and the other holding a takeout bag.

"Did you sleep well, firefly?"

"I slept through half of my meetings!" He's supposed to be out training the recruits right now--

"I canceled all of the group meetings for the next week. I'm going to be conducting individual ones with the different regiments. Come sit down, I brought you lunch."

That's... something. He doesn't know quite how to make sense of what he's being told though. "I'm supposed to be training the soldiers--"

"Geten is back and will be here training the new recruits, so you don't need to go rushing off. You took care of them for the past week. Now it's his turn. I got you black sesame cookies too."

"I--" But words fail him. He doesn't know what to do, what he's supposed to be doing when Tomura is able to come in and so thoroughly restructure his schedule on a whim. Tomura sets down the papers and pulls him over to the couch, making him sit and unpacking his food for him. The spicy tofu, melon soda, and cookies are all things that... he's mentioned off-handedly that he liked when he was younger. The tofu and cookies were things that he remembers his mother making for them before her mental state deteriorated so sharply. And the melon soda was something that he and Natsuo would sneak to get on their way home from school since Enji had been so strict about letting him have too much sugar when he was supposed to be training.

He kind of feels like a child as he's made to sit down and have lunch, and he doesn't do a very good job hiding how he's pouting given his lover stops him halfway through the meal. "What's wrong, love? Do you want something else?"

"I'm sorry I freaked out yesterday," he mumbles instead, pushing away his bowl. "It won't happen again. You don't have to treat me like a kid."

Duster sighs. "Dabi, I'm not trying to treat you like a kid, I'm trying to get you to take care of yourself. You've barely been sleeping, even when you make food for the others, they said half of the time you end up having a shake and a granola bar or something else quick. You've been working so hard, you've been doing the jobs of nearly all of the other lieutenants and me. That's too much for anyone, and I want to make sure that you're taking a break." He sets aside the file he was looking at and offers a hand. Dabi hesitates for a second, but takes it. Tomura pulls him up and into his lap, wrapping him in his arms. "The PLF was supposed to take away some of this stress. I thought that giving you each specific jobs and teams would help you all take care of things while I was gone. It was irresponsible and short-sighted of me to leave as soon as things were set up, without even making sure things were actually running the way I thought they would be."

"...You needed to get treated."

"For my injuries." Tomura concedes. "But I could have held off on everything else. I should have." But he didn't and now they’re here. Dabi doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what he's supposed to. "I already talked to the doctor, I'm going to delay my treatments for the next month and a half, and I'm going to make sure the infrastructure I set up actually works." He presses a kiss to the top of his head. "I can't make you take a break for that long, but will you at least take a few days? No more work, I'll take care of all of that. Sleep for at least eight hours and eat three meals a day?"

Dabi wants to protest. He's been fine. But... no he hasn't, has he? If he were fine, then he wouldn't have fallen apart the way he did last night. "...Two. I don't like having breakfast."

"You can have a smoothie or shake, but no more than one cup of coffee's worth of caffeine a day."

Dabi is less than thrilled to find himself in a negotiation about his health, but it is what it is. "Fine. I still want to train."

"You can train, firefly, but no more than four hours a day, and you have to get an extra hour of sleep those days and have a pre and post-workout snack if you're doing it more than an hour away from your next or last meal."

"You're a tyrant." He grumbles, turning his face into his collarbone.

Duster just hums, but doesn't protest, holding him close and petting his skin. "Do you want to pick out something else for lunch?"

He sighs softly and shakes his head. He's not going to keep fighting off the ways his lover is trying to comfort him. Maybe he's right. Maybe he needs a break. Maybe he needs that comfort.

///

Tomura works hard for the next few days while Dabi almost entirely keeps to their room. He lets himself sleep when he's tired, he takes medicine when his seams ache, and he eats when he's hungry. He reads a book that doesn't have anything to do with heroes or villains or any of his homework, and he ghosts Hawks when the hero tries to get him to come to the city for another meet-up. And Tomura makes sure he knows how proud of him he is every time he sees him. He tries to set a good example too, making sure to come back to the room to eat with him at regular meal-times, and even though he still struggles with his insomnia, he still does his best to go to sleep with him at night for as many hours as he can physically get.

Duster makes Dabi take a break, and after a week, he sits down to start working on his lessons again. And he realizes that he needs to go back to the past few weeks of them because he doesn't remember anything he learned. He was so overworked, so focused on just making sure he knew what he needed to for the tests, that he didn't actually process the things he was supposed to be learning.

When he starts to train on his own again, he realizes that even though he was getting stronger in increments, he feels like he's made bounds of improvements after giving himself the time to rest.

And when he is able to go back to work as a lieutenant, he finds that things have changed drastically around the rest of the organization too. Not only are there the lieutenants, but each regiment also now has a group of three to five additional formerly high-ranking MLA members who they can delegate to and help to spread out their workload. Spinner and Toga are in classes like him, though Spinner's are focusing on military history, business, and leadership, and hers are focused on sociology and cult indoctrination and recruitment processes. Twice is now regularly seeing a therapist to help him keep on top of his condition and try to get him to a place where he'll be able to use his quirk however he wants, and not just when he's under duress. Because Detnerat is still taking up so much of Re-Destro and Skeptic's time, their roles as lieutenants have been reduced so that the rest of the organization can run without them around and not fall apart because of the absence.

He goes back to work and tries to take up his old routine, but it's just not possible. People aren't pulling him in every direction anymore, and he's left only with the responsibilities that he originally thought that he would have when they first restructured the organization. Dabi suddenly has so much free time, even when he's working, training, and continuing to get his education, that he's... restless.

It's been about two weeks since Tomura came home and decided things needed to change when Dabi wakes up a little after one to find his lover's insomnia has already forced him from bed. He's not even working though, he doesn't need to late at night now. Not when everything has been taken care of during the day. Instead he's tapping away quietly at one of his games. Dabi slips out of bed and pads over to the couch, moving to push his lover's hair over his shoulders, so that he can lean down and start to press kisses along the back of his neck.

"Sir," they took a break from this too. Waiting for Dabi to not be so exhausted and in such a bad headspace that he was practically begging for a drop. He sees his lover smile softly, as he sets aside his game and gets up.

"It's late, firefly,"

"I'll sleep in," he promises. It's been over a month now and the thought of not having the other is a little too much for him. Tomura is wearing his gloves, so when he reaches for him, he's able to cup his face against his palm with his whole hand and pull him in for a soft, sweet kiss that makes Dabi nearly vibrate with anticipation. His lover only starts things so gently when he plans on working him over until he cries and Dabi wants that.

Tomura relents and links their pinkies together, a holdover from when he doesn't have his gloves on, and pulls him over to their bed. Dabi's skin is already tingling with anticipation as his lover's eyes roam over his body. "You've been doing such a good job of taking breaks lately, sweetheart, I think that you've more than earned a reward for taking such good care of yourself." That's more credit than he deserves, really. Dabi wouldn't have bothered at all if his lover hadn't forced him to. But he's not about to argue the semantics of that if it means he's going to get a reward.

Sir gets him onto the bed, his lips moving over Dabi's skin. Kisses are peppered along his cheeks, his jaw, down his neck, and over his chest as his hands move in tandem. They stroke so gently up his sides and along his seams, finding the places that could ache and hurt, but that fill him with a needy bliss instead. He relaxes against the bedding, letting his arousal start to build, knowing that all he needs to do is whatever his lover asks. When his hands go to his waistband, Dabi lifts his hips enough so that he can pull them down his legs. He kicks them off and lays back, and Tomura's eyes linger on him for a long moment before his hand goes to his caged cock.

He runs his fingers along the bars, back around the loop, trailing the backs of his knuckles against Dabi's balls and making him tremble and shiver as his body tries to send blood there that is choked away by the restriction of the cage. "Are you finally ready to come out, precious?"

Dabi hesitates. He's kept the cage on for the past few weeks because it felt... safe. It was a reminder of how in control he was of himself even when Dabi knows now he was so far out of control that he's lucky he didn't actually ignite again. He hadn't let his lover take it off when he'd come home because he was clinging so tightly to the idea that wearing it, that being restricted, could make him even more perfect in his eyes.

But it's been weeks, and Dabi is learning how to let himself breathe again after drowning for months. He wants to let himself have this too. He wants to let his lover turn him into an inferno. "Yes, sir." His voice is soft and a little unsure, but Tomura just smiles at him and gives him another kiss.

"Good boy, let's unlock you. I want to see my baby's pretty cock."

The praise makes him tingle with warmth as his lover pulls out the key from his pocket and undoes the closure. He is careful as he slips the ring and cage off of his body, and the first thing Dabi notices is the lack of pressure there that he'd grown so used to, he hadn't even remembered it was weighing him down. The next thing he notices is how good it feels to actually harden as his body gets hotter from Sir's hands roaming over his skin.

"There, I missed seeing you so much, precious." He runs two fingers up Dabi's length, and the sound that he makes as it happens is humiliating as his hips jump off of the bed, looking for more. Oh, he's so sensitive after not being touched there for so long. Dabi whimpers and Tomura smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek before he reaches towards their side table. "How about," he says as he extracts a bottle of lube from the top drawer before reaching back in, "For your reward, we try to catch up on all of your missed orgasms, baby boy?"

His cock is more than eager at the suggestion, barely touched and already fully hard and curving up against his stomach. "Yes, sir." He wants that, wants his lover to touch him until he can't move, until everything else falls away.

Tomura pulls out one of their vibrators. It's a thin, curved rod in black silicone, with a loop for the handle that can be held. It's only a few inches long, and it's barely as wide as two of his lover's fingers, but it's one of their favorites for its versatility. Tomura sets it aside on the sheets as he opens the lube, leaning down to give Dabi another slow, deep kiss. He licks into his mouth and Dabi threads his hands through his lover's hair, spreading his legs open a little wider, hoping he can coax him into making him feel good where he wants him. But his slick fingers don't go to his hole. Dabi won't complain about his hand lingering over his cock instead.

The touches are nearly feather-light, but that doesn't stop the loud, desperate moans that are slipping out of Dabi's throat as he's made wet, both from the lube, and from how quickly he begins to weep pre. It’s humiliating how sensitive he is after finally being allowed out and encouraged to take care of himself and destress. Sir has barely been touching him and Dabi feels absolutely desperate for it. He whimpers as he thumbs over his head, hand barely wrapping around him, gliding along his length and making his whole body tremble.

"You're so sensitive, baby." He purrs, teasing him, eyes bright with his satisfaction. "Oh, baby boy, you're not going to be able to hold on for long, are you?"

"I'm sorry," he whines, "f-feels good, sir." He hasn't felt good in so long. Even the last time sir took him to bed and helped him float, that session was weighed down with the knowledge that Duster needed to leave as soon as they were finished. But now Dabi can have his lover for as long as he will give him and the relief of not having to rush is somehow making his body too eager.

"You don't have to apologize, sweetheart," Tomura soothes, tightening his hand a little more as he strokes him, "I want you to feel good, baby, you don't have to hold back. Just let me make you feel good."

He really can't do anything else as his lover keeps stroking him as he kisses and bites along his neck. His pleasure builds and builds and far too soon he's digging his nails into Sir's back as his hips jump and he gasps as his balls draw tight. Dabi didn't think it was possible for him to forget how good an orgasm can feel, but this is blinding as it crashes through him. His cock is pulsing with pleasure that radiates so sharply through him and his spend is nearly burning, copious, and thick as it coats his stomach, nearly going up his chest from how hard his orgasm hits him.

It leaves him shaking like a leaf against their sheets, gasping for breath, and is only made worse when Tomura gives him another slow, sweet kiss before there's something solid and cool pressing up just behind his balls. Dabi keens as the vibrator is pushed there and switched on to its lowest, constant setting and that sends those sharp, overwhelming buzzes through his skin and makes his nerves go molten immediately. And his other hand doesn't stop. He keeps stroking Dabi even as his body tries to pull back from his peak and his cock wants to soften. But the hand and the vibrations as it's dragged along his balls, around them, and up the underside of his cock, lingering between his piercings and making him thrash and whimper as the sensations go too sharp so soon after his orgasm, force his cock to stay half-hard in his lover's grip.

Dabi's head swims as he tries to fill his lungs between the whines and moans that are coming out of him as he clutches at his skin. But he doesn't relent. Tomura just gives him more kisses, dipping his head to lick at his nipples and tease the buds with his teeth as his hand moves from his cock so that he can press the toy along him instead. And he keeps it there, forcing the vibrations along Dabi's shaft and making the muscles in his thighs tense as jump as it feels like he's forcing lava beneath his skin from how sharp his pleasure gets.

It's not a surprise when he bursts into tears as his wet fingers do start to circle his hole like it's even possible for him to handle anything else on top of what he's already being given. "Oh, firefly," and there's such a satisfaction in his lover's voice as Sir circles his rim and teases those nerves to life too. "Already?"

Already crying, when it's clear that Sir has so much more planned for him and he can't help it. But it doesn't stop his lover from pressing inside of him as he clicks the vibrator up to a higher setting. Dabi lets go of Tomura, wrapping his hands around the bottom of the headboard before they can get hot enough to burn his partner. That earns him a reprieve, at least against his cock that is aching from being forced to stay full, as Tomura locks the cuffs around the frame in place so that Dabi doesn't set the bed on fire. But then he has the vibrator again and has its blunt head circling his tip and tracing the underside to his first piercing as he slips his finger into his body. He strokes and coats his walls with lube, making the slide easier and more comfortable -- as he immediately crooks to find his prostate and starts to work pressure there in time with the movements of the toy over his cock.

The noises that he's making sound wounded from how completely overwhelmed he is. But he doesn't ask to stop. He doesn't want to stop. He just wants Tomura to force his body to be everything he can make it. He just wants to be molded into something perfect for his lover and it's a sharp relief that broken, messy, and sobbing, is perfect for his lover from how hard he can feel the other is against his thigh. By the time that he has two fingers inside of him and the vibrator has been turned up to its third speed, Dabi can't even find his words anymore and only managed a slightly louder sob before his cock twitches again.

This orgasm is even more stinging and sharp than the first, but it's only accompanied by a small spurt of cum that joins the mess already painted over his skin. That doesn't make the pleasure that rolls through him any less intense and when it ebbs away, his limbs are so heavy against the sheets and he can't do anything but try to catch his breath and sniffle as Sir decides that still wasn't enough for his reward.

Instead he pulls the vibrator away from his cock, softening now despite the constant, rhythmic movement of his lover's fingers petting along his inner walls. But he doesn't stop feeling good. He's wrapped up in the pleasure that Sir is giving his body, completely lost in it. He doesn't know if his body can handle anything else, but when he murmurs,

"There, pretty boy, all ready for my cock, aren't you?"

Dabi can only manage a weak nod. He tries to reach for his lover, always likes to hold onto him when he has him on his back like this, but his wrists are caught in the cuffs. Tomura chuckles and gives him a kiss before he shifts, pulling his fingers out of Dabi's body and leaving him uncomfortably empty for a moment as he sheds his sleep pants, before he moves back between his legs. Dabi's cock manages to stir, but he's only half-hard as his lover slicks up his cock and starts to press inside.

It's been so long since he's had him like this and Dabi moans weakly as the stretch and pressure along his walls makes his entire lower half start to tingle and radiate out a fresh pleasure. He knows immediately why Sir worked over his cock so much before he was inside, as he begins to move in deliberate, measured thrusts. He wants Dabi to cum again from having his insides toyed with, wants to give him that other, more intense, deeper orgasm that he usually can only manage in his cage or ring, without either in play now.

His lips fall against Dabi's cheek, kissing away the tears that are trickling across his skin. "You're doing such a good job, baby boy. I'm so proud of you. Does that feel good, precious?"

It's so hard for him to find his voice, to focus when he's swimming so deeply through his fog. But thankfully, him nodding blearily and turning his face towards the other to get a kiss is enough of an answer for his lover. Tomura gives him that kiss, as slow and sweet as his movements between his thighs.

Which makes feeling that second head against his hole all the more shocking. The vibrations are already on, and they're back to their lowest setting, but the sensation there makes all of his nerves tingle and burn from the too much that his body has already been subjected to. Tomura teases the toy around him for a few thrusts, giving Dabi time to protest, but he doesn't. He relaxes even further against the sheets even though his nerves are sharp. Sir knows what's best for him. He knows what Dabi's body can handle more than he does at times. He trusts Tomura to take care of him.

Sir pulls out nearly all the way with the next movement of his hips, and when he pushes again, he pushes the toy in alongside his cock. He inserts it so that curved shaft is pressing up towards his stomach and after another thrust and some gentle manipulation, the blunt silicone head is putting a constant, buzzing pressure against his prostate. It sends his nerves screaming and a rougher sob from his throat as he tangles his hands in the chains of his cuffs for something to hold on to. He shakes his head weakly, and Tomura shushes him gently, still not moving quickly, but stroking him so deeply, moving the toy with his cock, and against it and making it feel like the vibrations are reaching even deeper inside of him. It feels so good and like too much, and Dabi thinks he's going to tremble apart beneath his lover completely.

"You're doing such a good job, baby. Being such a good boy. You just have to hold on for me a little longer so I can make you feel good again. Can you do that, sweetheart? Or do you want me to stop?" He murmurs, his free hand moving to stroke Dabi's hair and his words only making his aching pleasure go even higher.

It's so hard to think through the too much inside of him, but he whimpers and manages to shake his head weakly. "Want it, sir, please--" he can't hold on for long, he doesn't think, but he wants to taste that sweetness again. He wants to float with his lover like this forever.

"Perfect, sweetheart. Can you take a little more?"

He whimpers, unsure what that can even be when his cock is still only half-hard and he doesn't know if he can survive another touch there. But he nods weakly again.

"Good boy, just a little more," Tomura reassures him, peppering his face with kisses as the hand between their bodies clicks the vibrator up two settings.

That sharp increase in sensation has Dabi screaming his pleasure as it aches and burns across his nerves. He nearly thrashes beneath Sir as he is so full and made to endure such unrelenting sensation as his movements slowly start to increase in pace until the bed is rocking beneath them and Dabi's close to pulling the seams across his palms from how tightly his fists are clenched. The pressure and heat go higher and higher, his prostate sending his pleasure vibrating all the way through his bones before Dabi can't hold on any longer.

Orgasming from there is always so different from doing it from his cock. It radiates through every muscle in his body, making his voice crack around how loudly he moans, as his toes curl against the sheets. And it lasts for so long. It's not the explosiveness of cumming with his cock, which only just manages to twitch and drool out a few droplets of cum against his thigh, where it's a firework and then an echo in rapid succession. This kind of orgasm takes his entire body and leaves that bliss radiating across each and every nerve and doesn't let go of him even as his limbs turn to lead in the wake of it.

He's floating so high he doesn't even feel it when his lover cums. He doesn't know when his hands were uncuffed, he just realizes a while later as he whimpers softly as his oversensitive cock is cleaned with a wipe, that he's being cleaned up. Tomura is gentle as he does it, making sure that he's clean of the cum that was all over his skin before he tosses the soiled wipe away and pulls Dabi close, settling in with him.

It's been a long time since he's felt so good, and when his eyes grow heavy in the wake of that pleasure, Dabi lets them close.

///

He wakes up again just after dawn, still curled up tight against Tomura's chest and his whole body still heavy from his pleasure. He can see the clock on the nightstand. Past time he should have already been up for training.

Dabi snuggles in closer to his lover, his arms tightening around him automatically, and Tomura's face turning to press into his hair. Work can wait. He doesn't want to disappoint his lover by not taking care of himself again. Besides, he feels perfect already, just laying in the circle of his arms.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed please consider leaving a comment, and if you'd like to book a commission please check out my guidelines and feel free to reach out!

#shigadabi #my writing #mha fanfiction #fanfiction

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feroshgirlsims · 14 days ago

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Chapter 8.4 - Flesh of My Flesh

VLAD

Vlad talks over pancakes. He explains the pointy-eared man. He explains the light and the smoke and the way he’s noticed a glimmer popping up in the corner of his eye. He explains his theories, his anxieties, and the worst part of the whole thing—his attraction because it was inconvenient to be turned on by someone who might be imaginary.

They don’t dismiss him. They don’t argue.

“The world is a complicated place,” Nikolas says.

“You have systems,” Josef says, “You need to use them. You need to be tethered, or else you’ll float away.”

It’s the same thing he’s been told since he was a child. Vlad finishes his plate and curls up with his father on the couch while Nikolas gets a fire going. “I’m tired.”

“Of course you are,” Josef rustles Vlad’s hair, “Since you was a baby you never slept. You been riding all day and thinking non-stop. You need rest. You get cranky if not, hell, we all do.”

“But it’s not just sleep,” Vlad insists. “I feel on the cusp of something big. Like something is about to shift and I’ve just been waiting my whole life for it. But now I’m tired of prowling and pacing and waiting for it to come.”

“Soon,” Nikolas soothes when he sits down. “You just be patient. World is complicated, but things become clear when they’re meant to. In the meantime, I ever told you about the time I was chasing a target, and they ducked down a mine shaft?”

He has, but Vlad lets his grandfather tell it anyway because it's a good story.

---

It takes a few more days before Vlad feels like he’s back to himself. They’re strange days. He sleeps a lot. He hears his parents argue, not the usual shouting obscenities and making idle threats, but the hushed whispers that tell him it's about something real.

He meets William for that barley bale.

He manages to turn in the bare minimum of his assignments—mostly perfunctory since he intends to cheat his grades, but it’s a good exercise.

And he does catch up with Alice. He wishes he’d done it sooner. Yes, he’s still seeing an attractive pointy-eared man who might possibly be imaginary, but keeping track of her requires his undivided attention.

Like now when she was supposed to meet him at the Commons over an hour ago. Vlad can tell she was here because she’s forgotten her headphones.

It was something other sims noticed, too.

—To their detriment.

He finally locates Alice in the graduate dorm study room. “Greetings, Magpie. I’m sorry I was away for so long. I wasn’t feeling well.”

She whirls around, “Oh shit! What time is it? How late am I? I’m sorry! Are those my headphones?”

“Yes,” Vlad says, handing them over. "And don’t worry; I entertained myself. What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” She groans. “Well, not really nothing. I need to research that secret society I’ve been tracking, but I don’t read or do books. I mean, I can, but it’s hard.“ Her head dips, and she tries to avoid his gaze. “I usually use a voice reader for anything long or listen to audiobooks, but for whatever Watcher-forsaken reason, the research machine doesn’t have a headphone jack or even Bluetooth. So now I’m stuck.”

“Would you like help?”

“I’m not stupid,” she replies fiercely.

“And you like books,” he adds, arching a brow. “You simply use an alternate method to read. I think you need an assistant. And as it turns out, I love traipsing through endless reams of text and boring books.”

Immediately, her eyes light up. “So, I’m the boss of you?”

The delight etched across Alice’s face at the idea of being in charge of him is enough to send Vlad into the stratosphere. It also spawns a fantasy that makes his pulse race. Something inside him unwinds and stretches. It wraps fingers around his rib cage and peers out past his heart, pleased and bound.

“Yes, I do very well with specific instructions. Feel free to demand whatever you want.”

PREV | NEXT

(Part 4 of 4)

#ts4 #simblr #The Save File Chronicles #Season 1 #POV: Vladislaus Straud #Sims 4 Story #Occult Stuff #Vlad needs a boss #thank goodness he finds one #prolly should do an interview #or like ask a question #but that is not his style #good luck alice

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dnvrsmedia · 2 years ago

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Space Girl

Astronaut!Ellie x Astrophysicist!Reader

⁺˚⋆｡ °✩₊⁺˚⋆｡ °✩₊⁺˚⋆｡ °✩₊ ⁺˚⋆｡ °✩₊⁺˚⋆｡ °✩₊⁺˚⋆｡ °✩₊⁺˚⋆｡

gender non-specific! no gendered terms or pronouns (they/them used)

inspired by the song ‘Space Girl’ by Frances Forever

some lyrics included at the end of the fic!

DISCLAIMER! although i absolutely love space & all things to do with it, i absolutely have no idea how NASA works HAHA. learning abt space & astrophysics is a hobby of mine so please suspend your disbelief on the logistics of it all lol.

°✩₊⁺˚⋆｡ °✩₊⁺˚⋆｡ °✩₊ °✩₊⁺˚⋆｡ °✩₊⁺˚⋆｡ °✩₊

From a very young age, Ellie knew what she was destined to do. When it came around to teachers, friends, and Joel asking what she wanted to do when she grew up it was always the same answer. “I’m going to go to space!” She said with a firm face and a serious heart. Yet, only a few people believed she would make it. No one believed that the spunky orphan with anger management troubles would be the one to make it out of the stratosphere.

People say that dreams change. That some dreams are meant to be just that, dreams, yet Ellie was determined to make her dreams a reality. Ellie Williams was a go-getter. When she had her eyes set on something everyone around her knew she was going to have that. Having that mindset has brought her to where she is today, a real-life astronaut at NASA. All the hard work and dedication that the auburn-haired girl spent years to lead up to this moment was finally here. She spent countless sleepless nights in college dreaming about the stars. Hours on the phone with her adoptive father, Joel, ranting to him about all the cool facts she has learned while away from him. So, when Ellie got the offer, she made sure that Joel was the first one she let know.

She can't recall before that moment when she first saw the old man cry, but that day, there was no dry eye between them. She brought him to the same museum he took her to when he adopted her on her 15th birthday. Due to her NASA status and undeniable charm, she was able to bribe the museum guards into allowing her to close the space section just for this moment. Ellie would never admit it, but she had no idea where she would end up if it went for the man himself. He was the one who took the broken-down orphan child with way too much pent-up angst, to a fucking astronaut!

It was her first day in Houston after leaving the small town - Jackson- she grew to love. The town gave her a heartful send-off and enough food and well wishes to fuel a small village. The first official day of training before leaving Earth was tomorrow. Her palms clam up and knots in her stomach arise at the thought. She didn’t want to fuck up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A sigh releases from her body as she pulls into her new home, a decently nice apartment complex a few miles from the base. Being an orphan who was tossed around from foster home to foster home until the age of 14, Ellie never had a big heart for items. Unlike Joel, Ellie never really found herself keeping too many items. Sure back home in Jackson, Ellie had some nicknacks and things she found enjoyable, but during the moving process, she found herself only really needing to pack up her dingy old truck. Her wallet was thankful for not having to spend extra on movers, yet the depths of her heart yearned for something more. Yearning for a place she could feel like her home. Jackson never felt like hers no matter how long she’s been there. Ellie wonders if that's why she yearns for the stars. The fast

Her calloused hand turns the key in the ignition off.

“Welcome Home, Ellie.” A small smile adorned her face. Yeah, she was ready for the challenge to come.

Droplets of sweat evaporate off of the auburn-haired girl’s body as she finds herself moving in under the hot Houston sun. Although she didn't bring much, Ellie still had quite a time hauling her things into her apartment. Past Ellie thought that it would be a genius idea to ship her furniture before leaving Jackson. Unluckily for her, all of her shit got rerouted due to some error or something? At least that is what the FedEx worker on the phone told her on the phone. She looks around the room with a bit of defeat. She has all of the “essentials” she told herself to bring with her in the back of her truck. These items include all of her gaming devices and gear, comic collection, clothes, TV, and the fuck ton of snacks she got from Jacksonites. Nowhere included in her array of shit was a bed nor a chair.

“Fuck!” Ellie yelled outside her door. Of course, everything had to go to shit the second she got here. The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped Ellie out of her self-pity party of one. A person of seemingly the same age as her stood before her with a concerned look on their face. Ellie’s face heats up in embarrassment.

“Oh uh, I’m Y/N… I live in 112 B. I heard you moving in and wanted to check in on you. Is everything okay?” You rock on your heels. Ellie takes you in with wide eyes. She doesn’t think that she has met anyone more beautiful than the person standing in front of her. You were in your casual wear since it was a Sunday afternoon, yet she looked at you like you created the sun and all of its stars. After realizing that she is standing before you with her hin to her jaw (like an idiot) she finally introduces herself.

“Oh! Sorry!” Ellie scratches the back of her neck– a nervous tick she does– “I’m Ellie,” Her calloused hand reaches out to give yours a shake. ‘Are all hands normally this soft or are they just godly?’ Ellie wonders.

“I’m okay! Well, minus the movers losing my shit and bringing it back to Wyoming. I don't have a bed and my first day of work at my new job is tomorrow so I’m just stressed.” Ellie finally allows herself to breathe after going on that tangent. You let out a short giggle at her frazzled state. Ellie’s frown turns into a small smile before she bursts out in a fit of giggles herself.

“What a welcome that is, huh? It’s okay, Ellie. When I first came to Houston, I completely had no idea what to wear for work and I was the only one under the age of 60 wearing a pantsuit.” Your smile sends a pang to Ellie’s heart. Maybe this won't be a terrible time living here. A laugh erupts from her belly

“Oh, that must’ve been terrible, thanks for that.” Ellie’s gaze lowers to her beat-up converse as she tries to calm her beating heart.

“Anytime, and um, Ellie? Would you maybe want to grab a coffee with me?”

You rush out in hopes that she doesn’t reject you. Ellie kind of stares at you, not sure if she heard you correctly or if her sleep-deprived delusions were messing with her.

“Or not, I mean I totally understand how difficult moving is. If it helps, I have my old blowup mattress and some sheets and pillows to spare in the meantime you can use.”

Embarrassment floods your body. What were you thinking? Now, you are gonna have to see her every time you leave your room and be reminded of the time you got rejected.

Ellie’s eyes shoot wide open with her eyebrows to the sky.

“No!”

Your face immediately sinks at her answer. Ellie shakes her head furiously, god she is such a loser.

“No! I mean yes! I’d love to go grab a coffee with you. I’d also love to take you up on that blowup bed offer. The least I could do is buy you a coffee, yeah?”

Your smile reappears on your face as you nod in agreement.

You ended up taking your car to your favorite coffee joint near work. There was a small shopping center filled with cute local small businesses that you thought Ellie might enjoy looking at as you sipped your respective drinks. You had gotten to know the freckled-faced woman the longer you two strolled along the plaza together. Her bashful smile that adorned her face after she mentions something that she is passionate about was probably your favorite part about her. She was so intriguing to you like you had known each other all of your lives.

“So, what made you make the move to Houston?”

Ellie sipped on the last bit of her iced coffee. She practically gulped all of the sweetened caffeinated drink down after the first sip. She stated that it was “the best she has ever had.”

“Oh, for work actually! I work uh for the government.” You start to feel yourself becoming shy. You hated mentioning that you worked at NASA. Not because you weren’t proud of your job, but because you had this irrational fear that everyone believed that you were bragging.

Ellie’s eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“That is so very vague, Y/N” She laughs. “What, you a government spy or something? You working for the FBI? The CIA?”

Now it was your time to laugh. Ellie had a way of bringing you out of your insecure shell only with hours of meeting you. You shake your head.

“Hmm…any other acronyms?” She asks.

“Actually, uh yeah.” You laugh. “And it has nothing to do with spy stuff. I actually work at NASA.” You proudly smile, your job was something you had dreamed about ever since you were little. Being in Houston and working with the people you do made your inner child beam. Ellie stops in her tracks as a look of shock spreads across her face.

“You’re fucking with me, no way!” She shouts in the store, customers turning and scolding her with their eyes. You laugh and shake your head.

“No, I promise I am not.” You laugh once again. “I’m an astrophysicist.” The proud look not leaving your face; feeling more comfortable with sharing after hearing Ellie’s response to your career.

Ellie’s hands find themselves on your shoulders as she gently shakes you.

“No way! I start at NASA tomorrow! I’m going to space!” She smiles widely, you can tell how passionate she is just from those words. Now it was your turn to let out a gasp.

“You’re an astronaut!?” You yell rather loudly. For the second time, the patrons of the store are not loving your outbursts.

Ellie gives you her toothy smile as she nods like a maniac.

Since that day, both you and Ellie have been inseparable. Having your familiar face around made Ellie feel a lot more at ease in her first few months. Whenever she had a break from the training she would sneak off to your desk with your favorite snack. Oblivious to her charm, her presence usually waned for the other women in your department to throw themselves at her— something you were not very fond of. Sometimes she got to work at the same time as you, those times being her favorite. Not just because she was able to sleep in a bit more, but because of the little routine the two of you worked up together. Just shy of a week of Ellie living across the hall from you, you both traded spare apartment keys in case of emergencies…or at least that is the reason why she gave you one. On days like these, Ellie would get ready and let herself into your apartment as you made breakfast for the two of you. To repay you for your service, Ellie would then drive the pair of you to your spot– the coffee shop you showed her on her first day in Houston. She then would pay for your beverage before bringing you both to work.

“See you in a bit, space girl!” You smiled over your shoulder as you made your separate way to your desk.

Space girl; that was the nickname you gave her after her third week of being here. The nickname made her cheeks hurt from her mouth involuntarily smiling at you.

When Ellie got to work hands-on with you, she couldn’t help but admire. There was just something about seeing you in your element that made her heart beat a little faster. Having someone else who was passionate about the things she was, just made her fall. Hard.

Six months before Ellie was scheduled to explore the stars above, you noticed that her attention would always wander while she was with you. Whenever you did catch her spacing out–pun intended– you liked to ask if her head was in the clouds.

Ellie responds with a smile, “No, but they are in the stars.” Her Ellie Williams smirk makes way to her freckle-filled face.

Yet, behind her flirtatious exterior, Ellie was worried. Her heart yearned for you at every waking moment. She was with you whenever she wasn’t training for her year-long trip. A trip that she has dreamed of making since she was a young girl. She wanted you to be hers, yet she could not bring herself into asking you to be hers. Making you wait a year while she’s miles and miles away felt incredibly unfair. Her leg bounces as her teeth pick at the thin skin of her plush lips as you both sit on her couch watching a movie. Your hand makes its way to her bouncing thigh in hopes to calm the green-eyed girl down.

“Alright, El, talk to me.” You pick up the remote in between you to pause the romcom you begged her to watch with you. You noticed that she has been a bit off for the last few weeks. The two of you would share a moment, you practically begging her to kiss you, and then she would revert herself to the time you first met. You thought that it was just her exhaustion from work, or the anxiety due to take off.

Ellie's thigh came to a halt, her body tensing at being caught. One thing that Ellie came to learn is that it was increasingly hard to lie to you. She found herself always wanting to be honest with you, so as the months have gone by, as her feelings grew, it was harder to hide them from you.

Ellie shakes her head and mumbles a very non-committed, “S’ nothin’.”

Your eyes roll so hard you swear they’d fall out of your sockets and onto the ground. You take her hands in yours as you try to gain her eye contact. Once that doesn’t work, you remove one hand from hers to caress her cheek every so gently. Your soft fingertips grasping her cheek as you turn her chin towards your face. Ellie’s furrowed eyebrows slowly loosen as she sees the worried expression on your face.

“C’mon, you can tell me.” You pout; wanting nothing more than to ease any worry within the girl before you.

An overwhelming sense of warmth encompasses Ellie as her eyes dart from your lips to your eyes, and to your lips once more before she pulls you in for a fairytale kiss. It felt like a mini-universe was being made between the two of you once her lips connected with yours. Months of yearning all poured into this one kiss. It was full of passion as the auburn-haired woman deepened her mouth into yours, her hands trailing up the sides of your body as she pulled you in close to her. God, did Ellie feel stupid. She could have had you this close to her for months if she only had the courage. Your free hand moves to the nape of her neck as you massage her baby hairs. A sigh of contentment slips out of her mouth; you could physically feel the tension in her body melt with every stroke of her head.

You pull away due to lack of oxygen as Ellie's lips trail, not wanting to pull away. You giggle as she pecks your lips, obsessed with the way they feel. Ellie finally allows the both of you to move from each other's lips before she kisses your cheek. Her face beat red and her lips plump from the make-out session you just had.

“That was-” You look up at her dreamily, you finally got the girl.

“Amazing.” Ellie smiles brightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner, it's just– leaving for the year with little communication isn’t really appealing for a relationship.” Ellie blushes and looks away from your eyes. You were having none of that as you scoop hair behind her ear, her eyes trailing back to yours.

“I’m not an everyday person, I work at NASA with you,” You laugh at her bashfulness. “Plus, you are worth it, Space girl. I’ll be here waiting for you. I’m yours.”

Space Girl, I saw a lunar eclipse

Looked like how I feel 'bout your lips

Space Girl, the only way that we'd end

Was if you were sucked into a black hole

But I'd still spend my days dreaming 'bout you

Dreaming bout you… ๋࣭ ⭑

#dnvrsmedia #tlou #the last of us #ellie williams x reader #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams #astronaut!ellie #ellie williams x reader fluff #ellie williams x non binary reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x gnc reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #tlou fluff #tlou2 #tlou fanfic

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arviyya · 4 months ago

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Twisted - @rosekillermicrofic - 999 words

⬩Twisted hearts, twisted fates⬩

There is nothing Evan wants more than to touch Barty at any given moment.

It's like a drug that seeps through his veins, igniting that fire that makes him vibrate right out of his skin.

The feeling is exhilarating. But it’s also frustrating.

Feeling any feelings at all, is always a bit much for Evan, but being completely consumed by them is another pain entirely.

And yes, it is pain.

It would be a lot easier to feel nothing at all.

Evan thinks that if Barty felt the same, it might be simpler. But this suspicion is baseless. Everything Barty has done has only ever solidified his belief that Barty doesn't have feelings.

Well, except anger.

Whenever Barty is angry, it fills the very air. And despite that tangible truth, it's obvious that Barty would prefer to pretend like it doesn't exist, channeling it into whatever unhinged humor, or idea that comes to him in the midst of that dysphoria.

Evan can tell, though. He can always tell.

Today is no exception. That morning at breakfast in the great hall, Barty received another letter from his father.

It's not that his dad is that awful, not as awful as Evan's, and Barty often grapples with this, saying things like, "I know he hasn't hurt me like–like yours has," this always makes Evan shift, his shoulders tensing at the memories, "but I still hate him. I can't explain it. He just..."

“He hurts you. Don't ever downplay that."

Barty usually responds by waving Evan off, or acting like he isn't bothered, but Evan knows it's the truth.

Just because Barty hasn't been hurt physically doesn't mean he hasn't been hurt.

His father diminishes everything that Barty is, always attempting to make him feel useless, and unworthy. Constantly criticizing and scrutinizing every piece that makes him, him.

Every piece that Evan loves.

Evan knows that his father is manipulating him. Attempting to shove him into a box he doesn't fit in, and Barty only ever ends up feeling like he isn't good enough.

He never says this but Evan sees the way it manifests in his schoolwork, always outshining everyone around him, working twice as hard to prove himself.

Evan only wishes that Barty could see himself the way Evan sees him.

The letter he received was an announcement that his family would be dining with the Greengrass’s over Christmas.

“Of All the things your father says to you, this is definitely not the worst. Spit it out, B. What's your deal?” Evan asks as they sit against the wall in the astronomy tower, a bottle of firewhiskey held loose in his hand.

“I've been suspicious for months that father is trying to set me up with the Greengrass girl. It's sickening.”

“She's not so bad.” Evan attempts to ignore the way his heart sinks into his stomach.

“She's not the problem.” Barty sighs as he takes the bottle. “Not exactly. It's just… I want to do what I want to do. You know?”

Evan glances over at his green eyes that send him into the stratosphere–every. single. time. “So what is it you want, B?”

“I just want to be free.”

Silence falls over them, the words hanging heavy in the air.

Evan knows how he feels. There are expectations that pull and twist Evan’s fate too. Sometimes, he simply can't breathe, suffocating from the path laid before him. The path that was chosen for him long ago.

Maybe it's the alcohol.

Maybe it’s the rarity of honesty.

Maybe it's the way his heart twists in his chest, it's shards pressing against his lungs, ripping his skin, begging to be free, begging for Barty.

Or maybe it’s just the loneliness that prompts Evan to put his arm around Barty’s shoulder, his fingers wrapping around the curve of his neck, pulling him closer with a small squeeze.

It’s meant to be comforting, a small gesture to show Barty that he’a not alone. That freedom is something Evan longs for too, more than Barty can ever know.

Barty leans into him, to Evan’s surprise, and he pulls from the bottle, emptying it and tossing it aside.

“I know, B. Me too.” Evan closes his eyes, relishing in the closeness. He knows its temporary. “What would you do with it?”

“With what?” Barty’s voice is so quiet, and Evan doesn't catch how breathless he is, his mind static and focusing hard on the moment, lost in a buzz of alcohol and endorphins.

“With your freedom…” Evan’s heart pounds so hard it hurts.

“I think you know what I would do.”

Evan opens his eyes just enough to see Barty gazing up at him, one hand on his chest. He can feel Barty’s warm breath on his face, the scent of oak and firewhiskey filling his senses. He hadn't realized how close they were, how close Barty had gotten. His mind unable to catch up in a moment that seemed like a dream.

Suddenly, Barty’s hand tangles in Evan’s hair, a touch so gentle yet deprived. Time slows to a standstill, and Evan’s eyes flick between Barty’s as Barty leans in, lips hovering over his own.

“What… what–I…”

“Shh, just…”

Barty’s lips brush over his, soft and careful at first, and Evan swears his heart stops.

It's only quiet for a moment before they are suddenly kissing with such ferocity it's like they are attempting to devour each other.

It's an explosion. Like stars colliding. But instead of debris flying through space, it's their love shattering the promise of time.

Whatever paths were set for them, have crumbled to dust.

And with every kiss, every touch, every glance, every drop of blood beneath their skin, their fates twist and wind, reaching every corner of the universe.

Every corner of time.

Nothing will ever be the same after this.

That much, Evan knows.

Whatever challenges they face, it's them. Always them. And nothing can shatter what they've found in each other.

At least, Evan hopes.

#rosekiller #marauders era #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #writing #microfic #rosekiller microfic #rosekillerfics #evan x barty #silly idiots in love #soulmates #my first microfic me thinks #a little bad day blues #murphsmicrofics

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superm4ks · 3 months ago

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gentlequeers a short look into Johnny Herbert lmfao

This herb mf fascinastes me because he’s clearly besotted wid Verstappen on some old school level due to his driving and his general verstappen-ness but he can’t fucking get over that giant fucking chip on his shoulder that max 1) owes him nothing 2) isn’t British 3) prolly not particularly fond of him either.

Like every Max fan who heard about FIA giving max community service for swearing collectively turned to a camera like in fleabag to be like 😐 ‘Herbert was in that room’ it wasn’t even a meme it was just like. Of course he was .

And even in the statements he’s putting out defending that insane fucking decision hes still doing the usual Herbert ‘hot and cold’ shit wid Max like this is FROM his justification on the extreme nature of the punishment:

“That (swearing?) showed Max's rebellious streak. I love that side of him, it is what makes Max, his honest and outspoken character.”

This shit sends me out the stratosphere bro like he’s a FAN he a fan he fan he’s just fucking so British he can’t fucking function wid an shooter like Max that won’t ever put the Union Jack around his shoulders and tap dance for his side of the pond.

Same in Austria. Just an example . U go to Austria (hold my hand. Baby we must) where he was 1 of the stewards responsible for Max’s 10 second penalty in that contact against lando ((while coincidentally haha, not penalizing lando for going over track limits like 49 times before they had contact, then when he finally did he considered that time served post race and Lando never dealt wid those consequences during the race. Just wanted to . Say that 🫶🏽.)) but yeah this is was a penalty that was applied immediately without doubt and where the burden of responsibility regarding the crash was placed 100% on Max. About this decision Herbert said, freely, sober i assume, I swear I’m not making this up,

“That intimidation is something that Lewis [Hamilton], Michael Schumacher and Ayrton Senna have always done. When you come up against Max as he is driving today, there’s a point if you’re Lando that you have to say: ‘I am here. I am at your side. You are trying to squeeze me off the circuit. And I am not going to move.’

“Lando did the right thing. He did not move. He did not have to. Some people said he could have moved. But that is not how you beat Max or how you win the Grand Prix.”

So while the burden of contact falls 100% on Max and he MUST be punished for racing hard, Lando is doing the ‘right thing’ racing him hard to the point of contact and nearly taking them both out, because it means there was a chance of beating Max. Do you see how brazenly fucking biased that is? How one drivers hard racing must be stopped but another’s is to be celebrated and encouraged? I’ve talked Austria and the literal unhinged witch hunt that followed not just from fans but mclarens top bitches and the media in general at length before. And how it got so fucking bad drivers old, retired and very much active had to come out the woodwork like ayo y’all being weird now fr lmfao WTF is going on ((It was beautiful tho.))

I think Johnny .. like Nando once put it, kinda, paraphrasing 😭 became a cop because he cud not win a title. He was a good driver too, he won races, he’s one of the few loud voices in that room that has the credibility to back up his stewarding calls. But that doesn’t mean he’s objective, or even normal, when it comes to Max. In a sport that employs Ted kravitz and is proud of it Herbert might be the most deranged fucking person under contract rn. And as a max fan yk I have to respect the nerve . The commitment . But I’ll never respect the man, as f1 fan, not even as a max fan. And I think part of what’s pushed his decisions towards the extreme this past few years is that he knows that too. He knows , like the aftermath of Austria showed, like the whole circus in Singapore put on BLAST and made a fucking mockery of not just his lilly ass but the whole FIA, that Max doesn’t need or care for his approval. Max has his flowers. Herb just a cop wid a laminated card . And good for him yk. Keep fighting the good fight brother . Maybe you’ll get him one day

#long post #Johnny Herbert #singapore gp 2024 #kit speaks #idk #f1 off season #😐🫧

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bullet-prooflove · 5 months ago

Note

It ain’t no fun if you don’t cross the line.

(And imma thinking Mr. Jaime Dutton may benefit from a possible pegging)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @alixw22x @vintagedaydreams @madisonbroxson1 @shira666 @zealouslibrariesparadiselight @lovethis-lovethat @foxfables

Companion piece to:

Wild Bloom - Jamie buys flowers on the anniversary of Lee's death.

Palm Sunday - Jamie needs help with one of his plants.

The Making of A Man - Jamie reflects on your relationship.

Liam - Jamie discovers a secret.

There are nights that Jamie struggles, where the demons in his head get too much, the noise too loud. Those are the nights he needs a little extra care, the ones where he needs you to give him a little something special.

Right now, he’s naked in your bed, his hands roving all over your body as the lubed up strap lightly caresses his opening. He moans at the sensation, kneading your breast, his thumb teasing over your nipple and you arch against him, the tip breeching him.

“Are you sure you want this?” You ask him, your lips brushing over his with tenderness he’s felt only with you.

“I want this.” He whispers, his thumb tracing over the line of your jaw as he looks into your eyes. “It’s the only way I can give you every part of myself.”

You kiss him then, exerting more pressure, filling him and his grasp on you tightens, is body arching as his hand comes to rest on the nape of your neck keeping you close. He can’t describe how good it feels to have you inside him, to be the focus of your attention. Jamie’s entire life has always been in the service of others, to be the centre of someone’s world, to mean something to someone like this, it ruins him.

“Do you like that?” You whisper, your forehead coming to rest upon his. His palm slides down to your ass, grasping it, drawing you deeper and you tut, stilling completely. “Jamie baby, I need you to use your words.”

“I meant what I said.” He tells you, his nose trailing over yours. “I need to belong to you in every sense of the word.”

“Oh Jamie.” You murmur as you caress his cheek. “You already belong to me, you have since the night you kissed me on my doorstep. I knew there was no going back after that.”

A surge of ecstasy races through him because nobody has ever wanted him the way that you do. No one has ever cared about his needs, his desires, it’s always been about what he can give them, what they can take from him.

You begin to move and Jesus, he can’t get over how good it feels. Already he can feel that heated flush exploding through his synapses as he holds you tighter, his palms stroking over inch of your skin. Your hand slips down between the two of you, your slim fingers wrapping around his cock and it sends Jamie straight into the stratosphere. His kisses become messier, his breathing more ragged, the euphoria builds into a crescendo, until he’s so overwhelmed with the pleasure the only thought in his head is you and only you.

He cries out your name when he climaxes. His dick painting your fist with streaks of white as your mouth covers his, drinking down his passion as his hands thread through your hair.

This is the only thing he’s ever wanted, someone who wants him, who loves him unconditionally.

“Marry me.” He whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. “Belong to me, the same way that I belong to you.”

Love Jamie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#jamie dutton #jamie dutton x reader #yellowstone

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moirindeclermont · 5 months ago

Text

5+ things I love about Polin, kink edition.

This is not from the show, these are little snippet of stuff I'm thinking about that did not happen in the show (and I don't think they will never happen).

Gifs at random that I like about them, just because I love them

1) The first time Colin calls Pen "good girl". But also the first time Pen calls Colin "good boy". Both are good in my book and both are scorching hot 🥵

2) More instance of gentleDom!Colin. Considering both of them, I'd say their first venture could be edging. Maybe just reading her stuff from his diary. What send me to the stratosphere is not the actual edging (while being hot nevertheless) but the aftercare. "You were amazing, Pen" as Colin takes care of her, making sure she drinks and wrapping her in a cozy blanket while waiting for the hot bath they took together.

gif by @girllookingoutwindow

3) The dirty talk. You have two accomplished writers madly in love with each other. The dirty talk must be out of this world. I leave the actual dirty talk to your imagination.

4)Dom!Penelope. I'm weak just think about it (and so is Colin). One night she decided she wants control, and Colin is more than happy in giving her everything she needs. He is so glad he can be of service for her, whatever she wants.

5) Ropes or be blinded. Or a combination of both. It highlights the trust between them, and how they comunicate their need to each other. For Pen it's a way to give up control and accept someone will take care of her. For Colin it's the absolute devotion he feels for her.

6) You can bet the first time someone called Colin "Lord Whistledown" he was pissed, only to think about it later on and that gives him an idea. He sent a note to Pen "When you came back home go in our room..I want ryou with your lady whistledown cape on. And only that."

Gif by: @chelseamariep

But at the baseline of all of this there is the trust they have in each other. Otherwise none of this would work. When I write kink and smut, it's never just about that. Just as I think it is for me in real life, those two elements enhance their dynamic and their intimacy in a way I find hot and sexy.

Remember kids: always, always, sane, safe and consensual when it comes to Kink (and I would say when it comes to sex in general). If you have other scenarios in mind, please share!

#polin #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #polin positivity #bridgerton s3 #luke newton #bridgerton spoilers #nicola coughlan #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #penelope bridgerton #polin headcanon #polin smut #lady whistledown #lord whistledown

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 years ago

Text

Proposal

Part One of Three Years

Masterlist | Year One

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only.

Length: 4.3K

Notes: ....Hi! This is the first of 2-3 fic drops. I'm hoping to push all five chapters of this fic out this weekend. Also I started writing this before the current AI market explosion. Not beta-read. Never beta-read.

Warnings: Cursing; angst; enemies to enemies who fuck; tech-talk; angst (I know I said it before but really); Nathan being Nathan

Summary: He’s shorter than you thought he’d be.

Nathan Bateman isn’t unattractive, or short, even, he’s just…Shorter.

Of all of the things that you thought you’d feel about Nathan Bateman’s visit, surprised wasn’t what you thought would be first. Shit-scared, sure. Insanely nervous, absolutely. Surprised by his height? Not on your list.

“This could be huge for us.”

Jenn looks at once desperate and wild-eyed as she paces in her office. You watch her closely, taking in the dark circles under her dark eyes. Her typically California-tan skin is pallid from her recent late nights, and her days spent indoors. The company is running her ragged—and this potential seed money from Nathan Bateman is throwing her into the craziest tizzy you’ve ever seen. She sweeps her hands through her frizzed auburn hair before she raises her nails to her mouth.

“I mean,” She mutters, continuing to pace, voice muffled as she chews her nails, “If we get Bateman’s backing, that’d be great, but if I can get him on the board.” She stops finally, turning to face you, lowering her chewed nails from her mouth. “That would send us into the fucking stratosphere.”

“...Okay,” You sit up a touch. You don’t want to be a buzzkill, but you need to bring Jenn down from the fucking stratosphere. “Nathan Bateman has scheduled a meeting. Okay? A meeting. One,” You raise your finger.

“He’s having his team go over our numbers—”

“I know that. He’s doing the due diligence that anyone coming in would be expected to do. Just, don’t put all of your eggs in one basket when we haven’t even gotten the basket yet.”

“Come on,” Jenn groans. “I could be the next Steve Jobs!”

“Yes, you absolutely could. But if you keep putting your focus on the idea stuff and not on the structure and application stuff, you’re going to be the next Elizabeth Holmes. And honey, I love you, but you do not look good in orange.”

Jenn deflates just a little, slouching back against the windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling.

“...It clashes with my hair,” She grumbles.

“I’m not saying don’t be excited at all," You insist, "I’m just saying…We’re bringing him in to talk about financing. How freaked out would you be if you went on a first date with someone and instead of asking for a second date, they said, Hey this was fun, let’s get married.”

“...Pretty freaked.”

“Right. And asking someone to join the board is like a business-y 3.5 carat pear cut diamond on an infinity band. So. Let's schedule an All Hands, give the team a heads up, get them prepped. Before that, though, we need to get you some fucking lunch and some sunshine.”

“You’re my sunshine.”

“Awww,” You coo before you get up, adding, “Seriously. Get your phone and your sunglasses, we’re going out.”

“But I have an email from prod—”

“Production about the user profile settings set to drop at the end of the week. I know, I answered it already. Phone. Sunglasses. Lunch. Let’s go.”

"You'll be here, right?"

You frown, shaking your head in slight confusion, and Jenn clarifies: "For his tour. You'll be here?"

You consider, glancing at your phone. If you can get the time off—but that's no guarantee.

"I'll try."

When Jenn started Sc(ai)le three years ago, you’d had no idea that it would take off the way it would. You knew that Jenn was brilliant, you’d never had a doubt about that. But you couldn’t have anticipated how quickly varying industries moved to scale AI. Jenn had assembled a team of engineers, scientists, and sales reps. She trusts her teams, and they work hard to keep the company in motion.

But Jenn still insists in being very much hands-on everywhere she possibly can, sometimes to hers and the company’s detriment. She needs a Chief Knowledge officer, a Chief Information officer, and a Chief Marketing officer. She has a Chief Tech officer, a Chief Financial officer, a Chief Compliance officer, a Chief Data officer—all incredibly knowledgeable in their fields. She wants a board, too, but you’re worried that the company may still be too young for it.

You work with the SVP of Marketing now and again, helping her to manage the way marketing materials are created, where they’re stored, and how they’re distributed. You’re working with Sc(ai)le part-time, on a temporary basis (though it’s technically been ‘temporary’ since the company started). Jenn needs an official team, with people that can work with her full-fucking-time. You have a full-time job at a separate tech company, one that’s well away from the AI space. You’d been worried their hackles would be raised when you informed them that you’d be taking a part-time position elsewhere, but they hadn��t even flinched.

Hell, your manager had asked you if you’d be able to get them an employee discount. You may just have to take a few days off for Bateman’s visit.

You don’t blame Jenn for being so excited, or so nervous.

Nathan fucking Bateman? This is huge.

But if both of you have your heads in the fucking clouds, neither of you are gonna make it out of orbit. So you’ll keep yourself grounded, and bring Jenn back down to Earth if you absolutely have to.

He’s shorter than you thought he’d be.

Nathan Bateman isn’t unattractive, or short, even, he’s just…Shorter.

You glance over at Jenn to find her tipping her chin up, slapping on her I Should Be On the Cover of Forbes smile. It’s the smile that’s brought every other investor on board. It’s the smile that’s brought on every single team member in the company. Now, you can only hope that it’ll bring Nathan Bateman into her coffers.

Where you’d typically leave Jenn to finesse any other investor, you stick close by. You trail Bateman and Jenn by a few steps as she directs him around the offices, and the facility.

He asks a fair number of questions. A few are unexpected, but for the most part, they’re things that you and Jenn had anticipated. The three of you come to a stop overlooking a row of engineers. You don’t want to appear nonchalant, but with Bateman and Jenn focused elsewhere, you allow yourself to lean back against the wall, eyeing the room. It’s then that you see an engineer flagging you down, a harried look on her face. You glance toward Bateman and Jenn’s heads and make sure they’re distracted before you push yourself off of the wall, skirting around the two and walking over to her as calmly as possible.

“What’s up?” You ask, crouching down beside the engineer’s desk.

“The marketing team sent through a brief about the user profiles—”

“Uh-huh—”

“And there’s an error regarding the, uh—The functionality.”

“Okay. Where’s the problem, what’s the fix?”

“Our systems are starting at Mac- or Blue-OS compatible.”

“But not Windows?”

“Most of the companies we use don’t touch Windows OS anymore.”

“But we have got a few clients that do.”

“Yes, we’re—We’re working on it. But this can’t go out like this, it’s not correct.”

“Okay,” You nod, mind racing through the possible, necessary fixes. “Okay. Could I use your laptop for a second?”

“Sure.”

The engineer starts to stand, but you wave her back into her seat, just turn the laptop toward yourself. You hurriedly log into your email on a web page, and tap out an email to the marketing SVP.

“Mac and Blue only,” You reiterate as you type.

“—But not Windows, yep.”

“Do we have an expected date on Windows functionality?”

“Q2 of next year—Maybe Q1, but—”

“We don’t wanna over-promise and underdeliver,” You shoot the engineer a smile. “I appreciate the honesty.”

The engineer nods hurriedly. You feel her casting a glance behind you, but you’re already turning back to the laptop, practically hammering the keys as you send out the message. You lean back, reading and rereading the message before you CC your work email, Jenn’s, and the engineer in question. Then you send it, straighten up, and sign out of the email.

“I’ve put myself and Jenn on the email, we will take it from here. Thank you so much for flagging that—And if anything comes up, please text, email, slack me. Anything.”

“Thank you!”

“No, thank you,” You insist, patting her shoulder. You straighten and turn, and freeze immediately at the sight of Jenn and Bateman standing just behind you. You swallow thickly, fighting to keep a straight face.

“I didn’t mean to hold up the tour,” You apologize. “You guys could’ve moved on, I would’ve caught up.”

“Everything alright?” Bateman asks, nodding toward the engineer.

“Yes. Just a little communications update.” You give them both a reassured smile. “Why don’t we continue?” You add, nodding down the hall.

“What are you doing for dinner tomorrow?”

It’s a question that he should be asking Jenn, and that’s why your mouth works wordlessly, your brow furrowing heavily. It’s a bad look—Nathan Bateman has asked you a simple question, and you’re floundering like a landed fish.

“Uh—Shoving something in the microwave, probably?” You manage with a shaky laugh as you put your laptop into your bag. You haven't been able to take the time off as much time as you’d hoped, and you’ll have to make up what time you have taken to keep yourself on track. “I’m working a double, so, I’ll get off shift around one in the morning.”

“A double.”

“...Yes? It’s when you work two shifts at—”

“I know what a double is.”

Jeez, of course he does.

“Right. Sorry. You seemed—...Anyway.”

“I seemed what?”

Confused is the wrong word to use with this man.

“Inquisitive?” You offer. Nathan’s brows tip impossibly higher, his chin angling down to gaze at you over the tops of his glasses.

“One,” He finally confirms. “How’s 1:30 for you?”

“For what?”

“For dinner.”

“I—I don’t think I’ve ever eaten dinner that late in my life. I don’t even go out that late anymore.”

“But you’ll make an exception?”

“Do I have to?”

When he smiles, you know that you will have to.

“I’ll send you the details.”

That’s it. He breezes away from your desk space. He doesn’t offer to walk you to your car; he doesn’t ask you any questions about what you want to eat, or what you like to eat. He just walks away. You look after him for a moment before you look down, taking up your laptop chord and wrapping it with a mutter of,

“Dinner at 1:30 in the morning? Not in fucking college anymore…What’s even gonna be open that late for fucking dinner?”

You think, and then giggle.

Maybe Nathan Bateman is going to take you to McDonald’s.

“You ever been here before?”

“Uhh…” You peer down at the menu. It’s timeworn, and splattered with what look like gravy stains. At least—well, you hope it’s gravy. “Nope, can’t say I have.”

The diner has a vintage bent to it. The seats are all coated in robin’s egg blue vinyl; the floor is tiled like a checkerboard; the walls are pepto-pink. There’s a jukebox in the corner, but the oldies being played in the diner are coming from a few recessed speakers in the ceiling. You glance up again as you hear Bateman shifting in his seat. He’s lounging back in his seat like he owns the damn place.

…Maybe he does own the damn place.

It could explain why they’re open so late, at least. There are a few other people in the diner, a ways away. Now and again, an explosive swell of cackling laughter will pass over your way before one of their party hurries to hush them. You glance back curiously as you hear one of them add,

“Dude, you’re gonna get us kicked out again.”

“So how long have you known Jenn?” Bateman asks.

“Oh, gosh,” You turn back to him. “Since Kindergarten. She’s my oldest friend.”

“You two seemed pretty close during the tour yesterday.”

“Did we?”

“Insomuch as you were her shadow.”

You close your mouth, reaching for your water. You had shadowed because Jenn had asked—but you’re in no position to quibble with this man. You’ve no need, either; he goes on:

“How was your double?”

“It was fine.”

“What are you working on?”

“I work at a company that produces technical books and longform guides for—”

“I know where you work, that wasn’t my question. What are you working on.”

The bored, irritated tone in his voice raises your hackles, and it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. But you swallow your annoyance in favor of giving a straightforward answer: “Right now, a quantum software engineering roadmap.”

“Are you enjoying it?”

“The writing can be a little dry, but the subject matter is interesting.”

“Hm…” Bateman nods, his eyes sweeping your face curiously. You fight the urge to shift or fidget under the scrutiny of his gaze.

Can you ask questions? Are you allowed? Why does this man make you feel like you’re in a damn interview? Your gazes break as a waitress comes over, a pad in hand and an expectant smile on her face. You instinctively offer her one in return as you order. You don’t really hear what Bateman orders; you’re too busy wracking your mind for things that came up on yesterday’s tour—pain points, questions that Jenn promised she’d get back to him on.

“So,” Bateman’s voice snaps your focus back to him, and you arch your brows as you meet his eyes again. “In your opinion, what’s the company lacking?”

It’s a slap of a question. Your brows manage to inch higher. Oh…God. No wonder he didn’t want to do this with Jenn around.

“Uh…” Is your initial succinct answer. You clear your throat, taking your glass up for another sip, gathering yourself. You could say that Jenn has everything she needs, save for capital. You could say that the team is rowing as one one, your little unsinkable ship, the Sc(ai)le.

But Nathan Bateman is a genius, and a billionaire, and a man with a low tolerance for bullshit.

“She needs a complete C-Suite,” You admit firmly as you set your glass aside. “She needs a solid, knowledgeable team behind her. We’re doing the best that we can now, and the Chief positions that she has filled are pushing the company in the right direction, but the ones that she doesn’t are slowing down growth. We need a CMO and a CKO and a CIO, like...Yesterday. We have a lot of data, and we have a lot of marketing materials—and the seniors VPs in those positions are doing the best they can, but you can only fill a leaky bucket so many times before the handle breaks. The company doesn’t have the capital to bring those positions on, and until it does, the company’s going to continue to grow at half-speed because the plane’s being flown while it's still being built."

Bateman doesn’t react for a moment. His silence makes your stomach twist with nerves; your palms are sweating.

“I didn’t think you’d say that,” He finally says. You can’t help but laugh a little.

“Look—I could tell you that we’re all one happy family, and that the only thing wrong is the fact that bluebirds don’t land on our shoulders and code for us—” Your stomach flips as Bateman’s lips twitch with a smile, “But you’ve already been inside. You’ve looked through our books, you’ve seen the facility. And if you’re going to go in on investment, you’re going to see the dirty laundry anyway. I may as well show you where the hamper is.”

“You like your metaphors.”

“It’s the writer in me.”

Bateman’s brow quirks a touch as he nods.

“...Why aren’t you full time?” He asks. That question throws you for a loop. You shake your head a little—like it’ll knock an answer loose. But the answer—the truth—is that you and Jenn haven’t worked well together in the past. Sure, you’re part-time now, but you hardly ever interfere with her day-to-day unless it’s to coax her out of her office to get some air or a meal. You prefer to take your time with a project, and Sc(ai)le is in a growth period where time is of the essence.

“...It’s not…” You start, brow furrowing as you grapple for a reasonable answer, “What Sc(ai)le does, it isn’t what I do.”

“The company has technical writers.”

“...Yeah—”

“It needs someone that knows how to compile the information, translate it for the average consumer—”

“But—”

“Just tell me they can’t afford you.”

Your chest twinges with indignation.

“That’s not true,” You insist.

“So they can afford you.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Which one is it?”

“You’re twisting my words, and I don’t appreciate that.” It leaves you more harshly than it should, and you damn your tone immediately. There’s no way scolding this man is gonna bring him on board. You realize that your shoulders have scrunched defensively and risen toward your ears, and you force yourself to relax them. But Nathan’s lips just twitch again, his eyes bright with amusement.

“...Why aren’t you full-time?” He repeats.

“I told you. This isn’t what I do.”

“It could be.”

You don’t want to make the concession, but the look on Bateman’s face tells you that he’s got you pinned. So you give a small, begrudging nod.

“Hypothetically.”

His smile widens at your confirmation. You want to smack him.

But that really won’t bring him on board.

You expect Jenn to grill you for your time with Nathan the second you get in, but she’s grabbing your hand and hissing, “He’s here, and he’s waiting.”

“What?” You ask dazedly, pulling your sleeve back to eye the watch face where it rests on the inside of your wrist. “He’s not supposed to be here for another two hours! I didn’t see an email—”

“He didn’t send one! He just showed up!”

You pull Jenn to a stop in the hall, slowing her with a gentle, “Whoa, whoa—Okay. Look at me.”

Jenn stops, eyes wide, head shaking minutely as she tries to continue walking toward the conference room, insisting, “We’re already late—”

“Slow down!” You urge. She looks stricken, and you immediately feel guilty. You take her hand in yours, giving it a squeeze before drawing in a deep breath. Jenn hesitantly does the same, pushing it out when you do. You draw in another, and are relieved as she copies you, some of the tension melting from her face as she closes her eyes. You watch her pull in and push out one more deep breath before she opens her eyes slowly, nodding.

“Thank you,” She breathes, patting your hand before she tugs down the hall again.

“I like what I’m seeing.”

Bateman’s assertion shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. Sc(ai)le is a good company, something that would make sense in his portfolio. But he’s so steady and calm as he peers out of the office of Jenn’s window.

You don’t like how he’s commandeered the space behind her desk. She shouldn’t be sitting on the other side of it with you; she should be behind it, with him—or he should be on your side.

Still, Nathan pushes himself off of the window, turning to face Jenn. His gaze flickers to you before he looks down at something laid out on the desk.

“Your initial proposal was…Whadda we got here…” Bateman tuts as he turns a page. You think he must be dragging it out for suspense—there’s no way he doesn’t have those numbers memorized. Sure, it must be chump change to him, but it’s still a big fucking number. “One million for a fifteen percent stake in the company.”

“That’s right,” Jenn nods.

“I’ll give you four.”

“...Four?” Jenn repeats dazedly.

“Four million for what percent?” You ask before she can leap up, kiss the man on the lips, and accept.

“Fifteen,” Bateman affirms. Your eyes narrow at him. This doesn’t feel right. He adds, “I have one condition, though.”

“Name it,” Jenn nods. You glance at her nervously. You’re certain that if he told her to strip naked and run through the office covered in spray cheese, she’d do it right this second.

“You come on as CKO, CIO, and CMO.”

Your brow furrows as Jenn turns to you. Who comes on? Jenn? She’s already CEO for fuckssake—

And then Jenn turns to you, eyes wide and insistent as she nods toward Bateman. Your head snaps to him, stunned. He’s waiting with that same patient, bored expression that he'd given you with all throughout dinner.

“You want me to take on three C-Suite positions?” You ask, brows raising. “Are you that strapped for cash that you won’t spring for two more people?”

Jenn hisses your name in warning. You know it’s the wrong thing to say, but to your surprise, Bateman just smiles and leans against Jenn’s desk.

“Hear me out,” He waves your irritation off. “I want to roll the positions of CKO and CIO into one. Chief Knowledge and Information officer.”

“And add Chief Marketing officer on top of them.”

“That’s right. You’re much quicker on the uptake than you were the other night. No, it’s alright—I’m sure the double shift and the late dinner had you off your game.”

You want to argue, but Nathan is already turning his attention to Jenn.

“Four mill for a fifteen percent stake,” He reiterates before nodding toward you. “And her.”

What would Jenn get if you didn’t come on? One million at fifteen? Two million at thirty? Nothing at all? You can’t bring yourself to look at Jenn just now—you know you’re getting a pleading expression. So you keep your eyes on Bateman, and his expectant expression. He knows he’s got you backed into a corner.

“...Does this condition have a term limit?” You ask. Bateman purses his lips, seeming to think for a moment. Then he levels you with an ungodly answer:

“Three years.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. You only just manage not to double over with it. Three years. Three years inhabiting two positions that you never wanted or asked for. Three years working with your oldest friend on her passion project, knowing that you will lock horns on approach. Three years of Nathan Bateman hanging over your head.

You can’t face Jenn. One look at those hopeful, doe-like eyes and you’re going to fold like a house of cards. You can’t look at Bateman. One look at him and you’re going to lunge in, slap him silly, and ask what the fuck is wrong with him.

You look down at your lap.

Three years. Three years or what? Nathan pulls his backing? Asks for repayment? That could level the company, and everything that Jenn has worked for would disappear overnight.

Three years.

You don’t ask about the pay. You don’t care about that. You’re not doing badly as it is. Two C-Suite positions (well, three) would surely pay you more than you make now, but still.

Three years.

You’ve been considering leaving your current job. You’ve been chugging along happily, though you’ve started to get too settled, too bored. Too complacent. But you've been ducking away from management positions at job after job because you just don't want to be in charge of people. You want to be fully in the action, working on the words, not floating above them and giving them a thumbs up or a thumbs down. This isn’t like anything you’d consider throwing yourself into.

Three years.

This is bigger than you and Jenn. Pumping more money into this company would give Sc(ai)le the chance to expand its staff, upgrade it's tech, bring on a more comprehensive QA team.

You draw in a deep breath, giving a small hesitant nod.

“Alright,” Leaves your mouth before you can talk yourself out of it.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Bateman bats back without missing a beat. You can hear a note of triumph there, one that makes you want to reach into his throat and rip out his layrnx. Jenn is springing out of her seat, pumping Bateman’s hand enthusiastically and telling him that he won’t regret it. You’re staring down at your hands, your head and chest feeling hollow, like you’ve just been jailed for three consecutive life sentences.

Three years.

Bateman’s hand enters your field of vision, outstretched and patient. You eye it for a moment.

You could still tell him to go fuck himself. But you glance up at Jenn, and find her beaming down at you. Her eyes are bright with joyful tears; her hands are clasped to keep from visibly shaking.

You can’t tell him to go fuck himself, and he knows it.

So you suck in a deep breath and raise your hand, shaking Bateman’s without meeting his gaze.

“We should grab a drink to celebrate,” He insists. You let go of his hand and push yourself up shakily.

“I—Have some things I need to sort out. You two go on,” You add, slapping on an encouraging smile and turning to Jenn.

“Sure,” Bateman concedes. “You have a letter of resignation to write.”

You pat Jenn’s shoulder on the way out, hardly meeting Bateman's eye as you go. You get into your car, and drive back to your apartment. You mechanically unlock your door, drop your keys in the bowl by the entryway, kick your door shut. You don’t bother to turn the lights on. The sun is streaming in through your front window with a vengeance. You walk over to your bar cart and take up a bottle of whiskey. You don’t bother with a glass. You just plop into your favorite armchair and curl up. You don’t cry. You don’t scream. You just stare blankly at the wall.

Three years.

Next Part: Year One

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